


A Guiding Hand

by The Muse of Apollo (mtwb)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Deal With It, Dom Harry, Dom/sub relationship, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Kink Exploration, Kinks, Learning BDSM, Leash Play, Lots of Sex, Master/Slave relationship, OOC, PTSD, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, So be warned, Sub Hermione, Watersports, Whipping, also sex, lots in the beginning, more tags to be added as we go along, pain play, possible triad later on, some with other people, they have PTSD so expect angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwb/pseuds/The%20Muse%20of%20Apollo
Summary: After the war, Hermione loses herself in a world of sex, alcohol and terrible friends. She pushes Harry and the rest of her old friends away. When she finally can't outrun the memories of her past, she goes to the one person who has always had her back.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/OMC
Comments: 140
Kudos: 287
Collections: Prompt Bank Garage Sale





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [HarmonyandCo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyandCo/pseuds/HarmonyandCo) in the [PromptBankGarageSale](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PromptBankGarageSale) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Hermione loves authority figures. When they start dating, Harry becomes the new authority figure in her life. D/s story
> 
> Prompter: Anon
> 
> \-------

**A.N. Wow, a new story.**

**This story, as per the prompt, features Harry and Hermione in a Dom/sub relationship. There are going to be tons of kinks in this one as we go along. I will warn about them at the top of each chapter so that you can skip that chapter if something doesn’t appeal to you.**

**This fic also features (in the first and second chapters at least) Harry and Hermione having sex with other people. This fic will also feature at least one threesome later on in the story and may end up becoming a triad. My muse is leading me that way, so I thought that I would warn you that that may happen.**

**You’ll notice that sometimes my British-isms aren’t included in this story. I don’t use arse, I use ass. I’m American and I can’t be arsed to fix my spell checker. Heh. Geddit?**

**Finally, I’ve done a lot of research on BDSM, so I’ve tried to make this as realistic as possible. I will fail, but I have tried. I do not need your criticism or kink shaming, so keep that shite to your self.**

**Warnings for this chapter: Use of a cane, sex with non-Harmony character, bondage**

**-:::-**

**Prologue**

**20 September 2002**

Harry flopped down on the couch and sighed deeply. He was so tired. His work in the Department of Mysteries was rewarding but exhausting. It still made him shake his head in wonder at the idea that he, Harry Potter – slacker extraordinaire – was an unspeakable. It had been two years since he had joined the department, and still, it was odd.

If anyone had asked him who was more likely to join the DOM, he would have bet on Hermione. But he didn’t want to think about her. With another sigh, he lifted his prepared tea off the coffee table and took a sip.

Harry sat his teacup down and picked up the book he’d been reading for the last few days. He opened it to the page he left off on and tried to read, but it was impossible. As always seemed to be the case, whenever he thought of _her_ , he couldn’t stop. Just the thought of her name would make him relive the pain of the last three years. 

After the battle, the Golden Trio – as everyone called them – fractured. Ron was broken by Fred and Charlie’s deaths and had retreated into the bosom of his family to heal. While Harry was welcome at the Burrow, it felt wrong to him to intrude on their grief. Ron needed his family and Harry wasn’t going to get in the way of that. 

Harry had been restless. He was depressed about the deaths of so many, of course, but the worst thing that plagued him was the sense that he had served his purpose and that there was nothing left for him to do. That feeling was exacerbated by the third member of their trio.

Normally, Hermione was the one Harry relied on to point him in the direction he needed to go. He’d done so for so long that it was second nature. It was a burden that she had taken on since they were in first year.

But after the war, Hermione wasn’t there. Oh, she didn’t leave. Harry still saw her from time to time, but she wasn’t with him and she seemed to not care what Harry did with his life or where he was or if he was okay. It was selfish of him to want her in that position, but Harry didn’t think so at that time. It was where she had always been, and her seeming indifference towards him was devastating.

Instead, Hermione spent her time drinking and partying and Merlin only knew what else. Within weeks of the end of the War, Hermione was a completely different person. Harry tried to reach out to her – for selfish reasons – but she had rebuffed him over and over again.

“ _It’s time to live our lives, Harry, and I’m living mine. I no longer have to put up with your nonsense,”_ she had told him drunkenly one night before shutting the door of her flat on his face. 

Without Hermione, Harry had been aimless. He didn’t know what to do, and worse, the nightmares were keeping him awake and still plaguing him during the day. It took six months before he decided that if Hermione wasn’t going to help, then he had to do something himself.

In the end, he had talked to Kingsley, who had pointed him towards a squib psychologist. It was during those first few sessions that he came to realize that he was placing undue burdens on the shoulders of his friends and that he had to take ownership of his own life. It was that realization that saw him take his NEWT exams and join the DoM.

Harry still worried about Hermione and still wanted her friendship, however. Over the next year, while he was slowly getting his shite together and learning more and more about himself, he attempted many times to get Hermione to let him in. He was rebuffed and screamed at and hexed every time. 

Hermione was hurting, Harry could tell that. With a little therapy, he knew the signs of suffering. He had attempted to get through it by doing what he always did – rely on Hermione. Hermione seemed to be drinking and partying and _fucking_ herself into oblivion. 

Harry knew that she worked on and off. Every job Hermione had she eventually lost due to either not showing up or shoddy work ethic. Harry had decided that at least he would ensure she had food and a place to live, so he had started to pay her rent and arranged for groceries to be delivered to her flat each week. Hermione was unimpressed by his generosity and yelled at him for sticking his nose into her business. That didn’t stop him from doing it though, so eventually, she just gave up and started to ignore him.

And that’s how it had been for over a year. He still saw her once in a while, but she always ignored him, often going so far as turning in the other direction when she saw him heading towards her or leaving the room if they happened to be in the same place.

It hurt. Really hurt.

In the three years since the war, with a lot of therapy and self-discovery, Harry had realized that he was in love with Hermione Granger and probably had been since he was twelve years old. Not that he was going to tell her that, probably ever. Even if they had still been close, Harry was quite sure that she would never want him. 

It hurt to see her on the arm of another guy every single week. It hurt to hear from their friends that Hermione had been so sick from drinking that she’d been admitted to St. Mungos. It hurt to realize that the Hermione that he had fallen in love with was no longer there.

Harry sighed again and closed the book in his lap forcefully. He was getting nowhere and he was sick of thinking about his relationship – or lack thereof – with Hermione Granger. 

He decided that if he couldn’t read, he would find some other way to relax, and that meant a trip to _The Dungeon._

-:::-

 _The Dungeon_ was a magical sex club of all things. It catered to the kinky minded of the wizarding world, those who were interested in the more colorful aspects of sex and romance. There was a shop where witches and wizards could buy all types of magical and mundane sex paraphernalia, books, and porn. Then there was The Backroom, which was really a series of playrooms and observation rooms that could be rented out. Participants had all sorts of kinks ranging from vanilla exhibitionism to hardcore BDSM play. Different rooms catered to different kinks. Some had observation rooms that held individuals who were more interested in watching than participating, others were private. 

Harry had not even known such a place existed until about a year after the war ended. After all, his experience with sex consisted of a few really good snogs with Ginny Weasley and a horrible experience with Padma Patil after the war, where he succeeded in losing his virginity but that was about it. Needless to say, Harry was no casanova, and he knew it. 

But with therapy, he was beginning to think that he needed something a little more in his life. His therapist, a woman named Becky Bower, had pointed him towards _The Dungeon_ , where she wanted him to observe some of what went on to see if anything appealed to him. Harry was embarrassed – being told to go to a sex club by your shrink was not the greatest – and nervous the first time he entered _The Dungeon._ But in the end, he had ended up learning a lot about himself. For one thing, he loved being in control. Despite yearning to be led around by Hermione, control was actually something that he craved. Dr. Becky had claimed that it probably stemmed from years of having no control over his life at all. 

At _The Dungeon_ Harry had found himself learning how to be a Dom. BDSM wasn’t something that he had known anything about going in – he hadn’t even known what the letters stood for, honestly. But seeing a woman get her arse smacked and her head shoved down on a long cock was very arousing for Harry. 

It was another reason why he vowed that he’d never tell Hermione about his feelings. There was no way she’d want to be in a relationship like he wanted.

Harry walked into _The Dungeon_ and checked in at the front desk. The building was located in Hexagon Alley, one of the offshoots from Diagon that Harry hadn’t even known existed until after the war. It was a more modern building, an oddity in the British magical world, with a brick facade and shiny, clean glass windows that were magically concealed so that no one could see through them from the outside.

The inside was likewise very modern. Wood floors covered most areas with tasteful rugs scattered throughout. The shop almost looked muggle in nature, while the backroom was much more unusual in that it was sectioned off into different rooms, each room tailored for different types of play. The shop was off to one side of the main entrance and was almost always busy. Through some clever magic, non-members of the club couldn’t make out the faces of paid members. That allowed people to come and go from the shop without compromising the identities of those who were more interested in the backroom. 

Harry decided that he was in the mood to participate, so while checking in, he asked, “Is there a sub waiting?”

“Indeed, Lord Black,” the man behind the counter asked. Harry had been told when he first came to _The Dungeon_ that he could come via a glamour or he could come as himself. There were times when he’d come with a glamour ring, but most often he just came as himself. The place was very discreet, so he didn’t worry about being ‘outed’ to the press. No one would risk their membership by leaking a member to the press. Harry was not the only widely known member, after all, though he was probably the most well known. “There are two. Lady Greengrass is here and has indicated that if a Dom arrives that she’d like to participate in a scene or two, and Ms. Howard is also here.”

Harry grimaced at the latter. Norma Howard was seventy years old, and while she was a nice lady, she was not at all submissive, though she claimed to be. The one time Harry had made the mistake of agreeing to a scene with her, she had spent the entire time bossing _him_ around. It was not at all a good time. 

“If Lady Daphne is agreeable, I’d like to see her,” Harry responded.

“Very well, my Lord. I’ll alert her. Shall you wait in the Green Room?”

Harry nodded and made his way down one of the hallways and into a room that was used to negotiate scenes before the participants took their festivities to The Backroom. Harry took a seat on one of the two sofas in the room and crossed his legs at the knee.

Daphne Greengrass was a fixture at _The Dungeon_ . She and Harry had played several times, and Harry always had a good time. She was a kinky little thing, and Harry liked that. He considered asking her out but knew he wasn’t really emotionally ready to give himself to someone else outside of _The Dungeon_ yet. Maybe someday. If he was lucky.

“Harry,” a female voice sounded from the doorway.

Harry looked up and smiled. Daphne was in simple muggle attire that evening, a white button-up blouse and tight blue denim jeans that hugged her fantastic legs and arse. “Lady Daphne.”

The blond-haired beauty just rolled her eyes. “I think after all these times you’d call me Daphne, Lord Black.”

Harry grinned and stood. He stepped in front of her, grasped her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Maybe someday.”

“So, I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Mondays aren’t usually your day.”

“I need to get out of my head for a while,” Harry answered honestly. “So I thought I’d come here to see if there was anyone to play with.”

“Well, I’m available. I was going to meet Draco here, but he stood me up for my sister.”

“He’s seeing Astoria? I bet your parents love that,” Harry said with a grin.

“Yeah, well, we all knew Draco’s time here was going to be limited. His mother still pushes him to settle down, and he can’t tell her no.”

“Now there’s someone who needs a spanking,” Harry joked, causing Daphne to laugh. “So what are you up for tonight?”

Daphne shrugged. “I’m game for pretty much anything, you know me.”

“Well then, let’s get us a room and have some fun,” Harry said with a smile. He grasped her hand and led her out of the Green Room and back to the front desk where he reserved them a non-observed room for two hours. 

The room he had chosen was well appropriated with all sorts of BDSM equipment. A St. Andrews Cross sat along one wall, stocks along another, and a large king-sized bed along the third. There were manacles, whips, handcuffs, and other implements that hung from the walls, all within easy reach of the Dom.

Harry led Daphne to the stocks and then dropped her hand.

“Your safe word,” he asked.

“Hippogriff,” Daphne responded. Harry nodded and grabbed a collar off of the wall.

“Kneel,” he ordered. Daphne got to her knees. This was one of Harry’s favorite parts. He dreamed of one day offering Hermione a collar like this. He shook that away and carefully latched the leather collar around the blond’s beautiful neck. “With this collar, I own you fully for the next two hours. You will call me Sir or Master. Do you understand, slut?”

Daphne shivered visibly and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now rise and strip.”

Harry watched as Daphne rose to her feet and slowly stepped out of her clothes. She was a sexy woman, he had to admit. Her toned legs were maybe his favorite part of her, though her tight arse was definitely right up there. He was going to really enjoy turning it red over the next couple of hours.

When she was naked, Harry led her gently over to the stocks and bent her over until her neck and arms were in the appropriate positions. One thing he had learned about his need for control was that there was no rush. If he rushed things, the pleasure wasn’t nearly as good. Every touch, every sensation, deserved to be savored. Bending the girl over and just plowing in while smacking her arse over and over again was pleasurable, but it diminished the experience, both for him and for her. After locking the stocks in place, and securing them with the locking runes, Harry ran a finger along Daphne’s back and down her ass, enjoying the way her muscles twitched under his touch.

“What shall we start with, Daph? We have some time. Maybe you’d like to feel the crop tonight? Or shall we go for the cane? Hmm?”

“Anything you wish, Sir,” Daphne said, her eyes distant. Harry had been with several subs over the last two years, but few of them entered a true subspace quite as quickly as Daphne did. While most subs had limits to what they enjoyed, Daphne had very few. She didn’t like anal sex and she didn’t like blood play or play piercing. Other than that, she truly enjoyed everything that was done to her. Pain was a huge turn on for her, especially when she was bound tightly in place.

With a grin, Harry grabbed the cane that hung on the wall then gave it a couple of experimental swishes through the air, testing its weight in his hand.

“Well then...let’s get started shall we?” He asked, then he brought the cane down on Daphne’s perfectly white ass, enjoying the woosh of the cane and the blunt SMACK! it made when it met her skin. Thet small whimper that escaped her throat as the cane impacted her ass was just the best thing ever. Harry smiled and brought the cane back for another hit. This was going to be a good night.

-:::-

Harry got home a few hours later, relaxed and satisfied. One of the reasons why Daphne was one of his favorites was because he could always work out his stress on her and she would always enjoy it. She loved pain and sex and everything about it, and by the time their sessions were over, they were both much more relaxed and happy than when they went in.

Harry grinned at the thought of how hard he had ended up fucking her. His cock pistoning in and out of her tight cunt while his hand tweaked her nipple or tightened around her throat. The thought made him grin wider as he hung up his day robe and kicked off his shoes. Before he could make his way into the kitchen for a late nightcap, there was a knock on the door. 

His grin slipped off his face as he opened the door and came face to face with the woman he had been trying so hard to forget.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione experiences the worst day ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n. Here’s the next chapter. The plan right now is to publish a new chapter when I get the one I’m working on done. I just finished chapter 8, so you get a new chapter! Also, I didn’t say this in the last chapter, but this fic is unbeta-ed, so expect some mistakes. This chapter starts the day before the prologue.
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter: Sex with a non-Harmony character, minor character death**
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

**19 September 2002**

Hermione Granger tripped as she exited her closet. Damn heels. She never quite got the technique of walking with 5-inch stilettos, but damn if they didn’t make her legs look _amazing_ and really that was all that mattered. Who cared if she couldn’t walk in a straight line or if she tripped more than was healthy?

When she regained her balance, she walked into the little ensuite bathroom and checked her makeup for the final time. She was meeting some ‘friends’ for her birthday celebration. Hermione didn’t really want to think of her real friends, so instead she’d just be happy that the people she was going to hang out with had nothing to do with the war or magic or any of that _nonsense_.

It was her birthday and she was going to get smashed and she was going to get laid. That was the important thing, even if there was a little voice in the back of her head that reminded her that she had _real_ friends and that they were all worried about her. Hermione Granger was getting really, really good at ignoring that dumb voice in her head. Most of the time.

That voice always told her that she was being reckless. That she needed to stop partying and getting drunk every night. That she needed to stop bringing home losers who only used her for her body. That she needed to stop fucking up every job she managed to get.

Hermione _hated_ that fucking voice. Despite her ability to ignore it, it just wouldn’t shut up!

With a sigh, Hermione gave her reflection one final glance – she looked hot – and then walked out of the bathroom, grabbed her clutch, and left her flat behind.

The voice was wrong. Her life was awesome. And it was time to go prove it again.

-:::-

The club was very loud, but it soothed her. Hermione sipped her drink, then sat it down on the bar. Her ‘friends’ were out there dancing, and she was all alone at the bar. The fish were biting, but so far it had been catch and release, with no one catching her interest beyond a single dance.

She had a pleasant buzz going on, but it was still very early.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing doing here all by her lonesome?” a voice asked from beside her. Hermione turned, expecting another gomer who would only be good for a single dance after buying her a drink. What she got instead was a very handsome man who looked to be around her age. He was blonde and his face might have been sculpted out of marble it was so handsome. But that wasn’t the most striking thing about him, no. His eyes. His stunning green eyes were so devastatingly familiar that she almost vomited.

Harry.

While the man looked nothing like her former best friend, the eyes were pure Harry Potter. For a single moment, Hermione saw Harry in this man’s place, giving her a crooked smile and asking her to dance. Harry had done that...in the tent.

For no other reason than he wanted her to smile, Harry had picked up her hand and had led her to the center of that Merlin-be-damned tent and spun her round and round. When the song had changed, and the tempo had slowed down, Harry had pulled her into his chest and held her tightly as he swayed them back and forth.

Other images imposed themselves. Images of Hermione slowly pushing Harry away from her after the war because he reminded her of everything that she had done. Images of her hurling hexes at him when he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Images of the defeat in his eyes when she had finally drove him away for good.

Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. With determination, she opened them a few moments later and looked at the blonde-haired man who was now looking at her with confusion swirling in those all-too-familiar eyes.

“I’m just looking for someone to dance with,” Hermione said with a false smirk. She grabbed his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. Anything to keep those memories at bay.

-:::-

**20 September 2002 (Just after midnight)**

Hermione grunted as she felt the man pump his seed deep inside her. That had been thoroughly unsatisfying. First of all, for all his good looks – especially the eyes – the blonde-haired man that she had brought home was...unimpressive below the belt. Four and a half measly inches was not enough for her, but she had been willing to overlook it. She’d been with enough men over the last three years to realize that it wasn’t the size that mattered, but how the man used it.

Turns out this man – she still didn’t know his name, nor did she care to know it – didn’t know how to use what little he had. Two minutes after thrusting in for the first time, he was done, and now he was laying on top of her, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. Hermione tried to push him off of her – he was heavy – but she was met with only snores.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Hermione sighed and pushed at the limp body on top of her with all of her might. She was pretty drunk, but she was still strong. Eventually, after a lot of grunting and frustrated growls, she managed to push him off of her and onto the floor. Disappointingly – or maybe not – he didn’t even wake up.

Hermione breathed in deeply, trying to hold back the tears. She could try to blame the douchebag on the floor for the unsatisfying sex, but she knew she couldn’t. While losing herself in one meaningless shag after another had been satisfying enough for a couple of years, now it just wasn’t enough to drive the memories away.

Why couldn’t this keep working? Why did she have to remember? Hermione closed her eyes, immediately being bombarded with things she wanted desperately to forget.

_Death Eaters shooting green and yellow curses at everyone in their path during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, killing Luna’s dad, Charlie, and Hagrid. The trio only just escaping before being caught._

_Breaking into the Ministry of Magic to hunt for the first Horcrux, watching as Harry lost his mind and killed Umbridge in a fit of rage when he discovered what they were doing to muggleborns._

_Getting caught on the way out of the Ministry, Ron getting splinched so badly that Hermione wasn’t able to heal him completely._

_Ron, still suffering from his injury, destroying the trio’s friendship and walking out on their quest. Breaking down as she realized that the boy she loved had left her to die._

_The trip to Godric’s Hollow where she froze during the Nagini’s attack, causing Harry to be injured and his wand to be snapped. Just barely getting the two of them out of Bagshot’s house before Riddle arrived._

_The trio, freshly reunited, discovering the Deathly Hallows via Dumbledore’s book and an encounter with Luna who was at her father’s home._

_Barely escaping Lovegood Manor after a surprise visit by Death Eaters. Luna not being so lucky._

_Harry saying Voldemort’s name._

_Bellatrix sitting astride her, carving that dreaded word into her flesh. The cruciatus curse flowing through her. Pain like she had never experienced before. Wanting to die._

_Dobby’s death is but a blur._

_The Battle at Hogwarts. The death of Remus, Fred, and so many more._

_Harry going to his death, leaving her behind. His body being levitated through the air by Voldemort’s minions, suffering curses and hexes left and right._

_Dueling Bellatrix to a standstill, only to be saved by Molly Weasley who was able to kill the wicked witch, but only at the cost of her left arm._

_Voldemort falling to the ground, finally defeated but leaving behind so many broken people._

_Harry wanting...needing her to hold him up when she couldn’t even begin to hold herself together._

Gasping, Hermione opened her eyes. Her breathing was ragged and panic flowed through her. Panic attacks weren’t uncommon for her, but she could tell this was going to be a bad one. She tried to breathe but found it near impossible. All she could do was live through those memories over and over again. Even in her inebriated mind, or perhaps especially because of it, the memories seemed more vivid than ever, causing her to sink deeper and deeper into panic.

Eventually, her body could take no more and Hermione Granger, war heroine, Brightest Witch of the Age, passed out in a puddle of her own sweat and the cum of the man she had brought home to distract her.

-:::-

When Hermione woke up, the blonde douchebag was gone, thankfully. Hermione was left with a killer headache and all that accompanied a monstrous hangover. Luckily, she always kept hangover potions on hand – something she found she needed almost every morning.

This morning, however, she found that there were no potions. With a groan, she flung the potion cabinet closed with undue force and watched in dismay as the mirror that was attached to the front shattered on impact.

“Fuck!” Hermione shouted as she danced out of the way of flying shards of glass – unsuccessfully. She could feel as several shards hit her arms as she flung them over her head. Breathing hard, Hermione flopped down on the toilet and gazed at the mess the shattered mirror had created on her bathroom floor. How was she going to get out of the bathroom without shredding her feet to bits? Tears ran down her cheeks.

Her head was pounding, her mirror was broken and all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and give up. There was no way her day could possibly get any worse.

An hour later when she finally had the bathroom cleaned up and had taken a shower, Hermione realized that she shouldn’t have tempted fate. She had completely forgotten about work. She’d just started clerking at a bookstore, and she actually liked the job for once. But now she was an hour late and she hadn’t even thought about calling in to let the owner know that she was going to be late.

By the time she did manage to make it into the shop, Hermione found an irate owner who wasted no time in firing her and sending her right back out the door. Hermione slumped down on a bench a few meters away from the store where she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

When she finally got herself put back together, Hermione just hoped the day wasn’t going to get any worse. Though how it possibly could, she didn’t know.

With a sigh, Hermione made her way back to her flat, hoping that her life would just stop punishing her.

-:::-

By the time the evening rolled around, Hermione was at her wit’s end. Along with her lost job, Hermione had her car towed by a repossession company for lack of payment, and then, when she thought nothing else could truly go wrong, she’d found Crookshanks lying peacefully on her reading nook, no longer breathing.

At that point, Hermione had given up. The memories that she wanted to be distracted from were no longer enough to keep her away from the one person that she needed more than anyone else. With a sob, Hermione apparated for the first time in three years and knocked on the door that she landed in front of.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n.2. And that’s a wrap on this one. I’d love to know what you think!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reunion of Harry and Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of people are asking what my decision is on whether or not this story will be a triad. My answer is yes. Kind of. What I've decided to do is do an alternate ending. One ending will be Harmony only. The other will expand the story by a few chapters and will be Harry/Hermione/Some other female character. Who that third will be isn't decided yet, though it's between Daphne and Luna right now (sound off in the comments if you have a preference).
> 
> With that out of the way, I want to mention this: THERE WILL BE TWO THREESOMES IN THE MAIN STORY. These will be smut only, but if you don't like Harry/Hermione/Female Character, then those will be chapters you want to skip. They're still a long ways away, but I wanted to make sure people are aware that there will be a couple of threesomes here no matter which ending you choose. 
> 
> For those of you who wanted more detail in some things, I just ask that you be patient. There's a bit more in this chapter and it does get way better as I get into the meat of the story.
> 
> Also, this remains unbetaed outside of Grammarly, so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Of course, I don't.

**20 September 2002**

Harry gazed at his long lost best friend. She had cuts up and down her arms, though they look like they had been cleaned. Her clothes were in disarray, but what was most noticeable were the tear tracks that were on her cheeks and the red eyes that peered back at him through long lashes.

He hadn’t been this close to her in months, and honestly, she looked worse than she had then, and she had been drunk off her ass that time. He hadn’t returned after she’d threatened to pull her wand on him. After that, he had decided that it was best to move on from his life. Dr. Becky had been pleading with him to cut Hermione out of his life for months prior to that encounter, so Harry had done so – though he’d continued the grocery deliveries and paying her rent, so maybe he hadn’t done such a good job of ‘cutting her off.’

Harry stepped forward, fully expecting her to take a step backward as she had before – he hadn’t been allowed to touch her since before the Battle of Hogwarts – but she didn’t. Instead, she flung herself into his chest and wrapped herself around him tightly. Surprised, Harry hugged her back automatically. It wasn’t even in question. If Hermione hugged him, of course, he was going to hug her back.

“Harry,” he heard her sob out. “I’m so sorry…”

Harry said nothing and just tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer.

He was able to finally move them out of the doorway and into Grimmauld Place, though Hermione refused to release her grip on him. He didn’t push her away, though he was beginning to feel awkward. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in months, and really their only conversations over the last three years had been arguments and downright fights. What was she doing here now?

Did he even want her here?

Harry shook his head. That was a dumb question. Even with everything she had done to him to push him away over the last three years, she was still one of the most important people in his life.

After a few minutes, Hermione still wasn’t calming down, so Harry decided that he needed to do something. He pulled out his wand and cast a subtle cheering charm, hoping that it wouldn’t mess with her head too much. It was either that or find a calming draught and force her to drink it.

Immediately, Hermione calmed down. Harry was thankful she didn’t start laughing, which would have meant he had overpowered the cheering charm, something that he knew was very easy to do.

“Thanks,” Hermione mumbled as she finally pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed, though Harry didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or from crying.

“Of course,” Harry said, tersely. _What are friends for,_ he wanted to say, but managed to hold it in. Now that she had stopped crying, Harry felt the anger that he’d held in at seeing her flow through him, and he only just barely managed to keep from shouting at her and telling her to go away. He may still love her – he wasn’t sure he would ever stop – but he was so angry with her.

“I know you don’t want me here,” she said with a sniffle. “I...I just needed to see you.”

“Why? Why now?” Harry asked, tightly.

Hermione laughed bitterly. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve ruined my life. Maybe because I’ve just had the worse day I’ve ever had. Maybe because three years later and I still can’t get free from the things we had to endure. Maybe I’ve just fucking lost it completely!” Near the end, she was shouting, causing Harry to take a step back.

“Maybe I just needed to see the consequences of what I’ve done,” she said softly. “I...I’ll go now. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

Harry scowled and grabbed her arm as she tried to push past him and make her way back towards the front door. “Don’t you dare leave,” he growled. “Unless you never come back.”

He was done. He’d struggled over the last t hree years without her in his life. At first, he selfishly needed her to help him. After that, he just wanted her there.  And she wasn’t there. She pushed him away, and while he could understand that everyone dealt with the war and its aftermath differently, he couldn’t understand why Hermione didn’t want to be his friend anymore.  Dr. Becky was right. Hermione either needed to come back to him now or she needed to leave Harry’s life for good. Harry knew he couldn’t live another moment with the uncertainty that currently existed in their ‘friendship.’

So yeah, he was done. If she stayed, she would get another chance and he would happily try to be her friend again – he missed her terribly. But if she walked away, Harry knew he would need to wash his hands of her, no matter their shared past.

“Harry… ”

“Come in and sit down, Hermione. You came all the way here, you might as well talk about what’s going on with you. Maybe I can help,” Harry said, not letting go of her arm.

S lowly, Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to lead her into the sitting room. After she sat down, Harry let go of her arm and sat across from her. 

The silence was heavy. Harry didn’t know what she was doing here. She was apparently feeling sorry for herself, but what did she want with him? Finally, he couldn’t take the silence any longer, “You said you were having problems with the war?”

Hermione stayed silent and just sat gazing down at the floor.  Eventually, though, she nodded. 

“Nightmares?” Harry asked. Then he gazed at her knowingly, “Panic attacks?”

H ermione stayed silent, but she flinched at his words. Harry sighed. He knew what it was like to live with PTSD, which is what he was sure Hermione had. How could she not? She’d been through almost all the same things he had, after all.  Harry got up from his chair and sat down on the sofa next to Hermione, then he wrapped  an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

He was still mad. Furious with her, actually. But he wasn’t going to turn her away when it was obvious that she was hurting.  She was his best friend, after all. 

-:::-

Hermione burrowed herself deeper into Harry’s embrace, relishing the feeling of being with him again. For three years she had run away from this. Run as far as possible. Pushed Harry away with barbed words and hexes. While she knew that it had broken his heart, it had broken her heart too. But she had deserved it. Hermione knew she did. She was the one who had done so many horrible things during the war. She was the one who had been _so damn relieved_ when Harry had ‘returned to life,’ when so many had died.

She didn’t deserve to be his friend, and she knew it.

But now here he was, three years of distance between them, holding her like she was still important to him. She didn’t understand it.

“Have you looked for help?” Harry asked her, once she calmed down a bit.

Hermione shook her head into his shoulder. She knew she needed help, though if she had been asked just a day before, she would have denied it with her last breath. But after the day she’d had, she knew that she couldn’t keep going like she had been.

The parties and the drinking weren’t working. The meaningless shags weren’t working either. She couldn’t even get off with any of the men she brought home anymore, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t enough to make her forget. Not like it had been. More and more, the memories flooded through her, leaving her in tears trying to catch her breath. The night before, with the douchebag, was the only latest example of how dumb her current way of dealing with her past was.

“Are you ready to get help?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness. He just pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair.

They sat there for at least a half-hour, though for Hermione, it felt like much longer. Eventually, she got a k ink in her neck and had to pull back. Harry’s arm stayed around her, but she sat up straight, finally looking around.

Grimmauld Place didn’t look like it had the last time she had seen it. The sitting room she was in, right off the entryway, had once been dark and gloomy like the rest of the house. There used to be portraits of Black ancestors stuck to the walls, each more bigoted and arrogant than the last.

Now the walls were painted a natural white color and the portraits were of landscapes. The lighting was much better too, making the room much cozier. Hermione could tell that during the day the room would be even brighter with huge windows allowing in a lot of sunlight.

“You’ve redecorated,” she said finally.

“Yeah, the whole house. I couldn’t stay here if I didn’t do that. Besides, it helped make the memories of this place easier to bare. It didn’t seem like Sirius’ prison anymore once I was done,” Harry answered.

Hermione nodded. “I’m sorry I just showed up here, I know you probably don’t want to see me.”

“Hermione, that’s nonsense. I’ve missed you terribly. I’m furious at you, but I understand. I really do.”

“How?” Hermione asked, tears prickling her eyes again. Damn tears.

“After the war, I was broken, too. I needed help,” Harry said as he pulled his arm away from her and clasped his hands on his lap. “At first, all I needed was you. You’d always been there to help me through all my shit. Sirius, Dumbledore, the war. You were always there. But then you were dealing with your own life and weren’t there anymore. I selfishly blamed you. I was so...so mad. Just unspeakably angry that time you hexed me that I vowed that I never wanted to see you again.”

“Harry…”

“No,” Harry said, holding up his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I put a lot of pressure on you after the war, and that was unspeakably unfair of me. It wasn’t your duty to get me passed my issues any more than it was your duty to save me over and over again.

“In the end, I had to talk to a professional. I still see a shrink once a week. And I’m better. So I know how it feels to be broken and not know what to do about it.”

“Is that why I didn’t see you for a while?”

Harry hummed. “Yeah. It was only after I started to get my shit together that I felt like I could see you again and not be so angry.”

“I’m sorry I kept pushing you away. I...I was glad you kept pushing, even if I didn’t show it. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for all you did to help me these last three years.”

“You don’t owe me, Mia. I just want us to be friends again.” Hermione nodded and reached for his hand, entwining their fingers together.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Hermione said, “I tried to forget. All I want is to forget. I don’t want to remember how I killed an entire group of Death Eaters with one spell or how I nearly died over and over again, or how you did die and only came back because of a miracle. Why can’t I just forget?”

“Oh, Hermione. I’ll just repeat what I was told. You have to work through the memories. That’s what I had help with. Talking about it with someone who wasn’t there, really, really helped. Do you want to talk about what happened today? Something happened, right?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “It was just...nothing I’ve been doing works anymore. I fuck and I party and I drink, and it used to work. I could forget and it would be okay. Maybe I wasn’t happy, really, but I was okay. But it doesn’t work anymore. After a panic attack last night and breaking a mirror this morning after finding I had no hangover cure and then losing my job, again, and then m y car was repossessed and it was all just too much. And then I get home,” Hermione sobbed, “and I found that Crooks had died.”

“Oh, Mia,” Harry said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t there, Harry! Don’t you get it! I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there for Crookshanks and he died, and I wasn’t there for you. I swore I’d always be there for you and what did I do? I buried it all, like what you and I had didn’t even matter! What is wrong with me?”

Harry said nothing, despite Hermione’s near hysterical rant. Hermione took a deep breath. She didn’t want to slip into another panic attack.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Harry said, finally. “What we went through is something no one can be prepared for. It’s not something that you can live through and not be affected by.”

“When did you become the mature one in this friendship,” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry laughed softly. “I had to do a bit of growing up, I guess. I’ve learned a lot about myself these past couple of years.”

“I’ve learned a lot about myself too,” Hermione laughed bitterly. “I learned that I’m a fucking coward.”

“Mia, no. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Hermione shook her head, but Harry apparently wasn’t going to listen to her self-pity any longer.

“Listen to me. You’re a wonderful young woman who has a bright future ahead of her. I know that. I’ve always known you’re going to do awesome things. You’ve already done awesome things. Did you fight in a war? Yes. Did you have to do terrible things to survive? Yes. And if you want, we can deal with those things together. But just because you couldn’t deal with those things on your own, doesn’t make you a coward.”

Hermione just buried her face in Harry’s neck and started to cry again, wondering just what she had done to deserve such a wonderful friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all your comments, so I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Becky enters the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wanting smut, it has been delayed. We're going to be working through some PTSD stuff here in the next couple of chapters, which I feel is important before they can start to get kinky with one another.
> 
> There may be some extra spaces in this and the following chapters. Ao3 seems to be putting spaces in odd places when I copy the text over.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: explicit mention of PTSD, non-explicit mention of rape, and genocide. Voldemort was an asshole.

**3** **0** **September 2002**

“Dr. Becky will see you now,” the receptionist called out with a smile. Hermione stood slowly from the moderately comfortable chair she had been sitting in for fifteen minutes and made her way to the door behind the receptionist’s desk.

Hermione had to admit that she was very nervous. She hadn’t ever really had a reason to visit a mind healer before. And while she had known a few – her parents had been dentists, after all, and had known quite a few different people including a few psychologists – Hermione wasn’t sure that she was really interested in visiting one either.

But she knew that she had to. It was time to get her life in order. No more drinking. No more partying. No more dumb and meaningless shags. No more forgetting. It was that last one that was the most frightening.

With a shudder, Hermione gathered her courage and opened the door.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” a voice said from inside. Hermione stepped through the doorway and found herself looking at a woman just a few years older than herself. Blonde hair, currently tied back in a ponytail, stunning blue eyes, and if Hermione was any judge, an amazing figure dressed in an attractive blue women's suit. Hermione was instantly jealous that Harry was spending at least an hour with this woman each and every week.

She pushed that thought aside as she stepped further into the room and shook the woman’s outstretched hand.

“I’m Dr. Becky Bower. You can call me Becky or Dr. Becky, whatever you find most comfortable. Can I call you Hermione?”

“Uh...sure,” Hermione replied. The woman was very friendly, or at least she appeared to be, though Hermione didn’t know what she had expected. Maybe because the woman was so damn attractive, Hermione expected that there would be the usual derision that she faced from other more attractive women. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Good. Good. Have a seat.”

“No couch?” Hermione asked.

Dr. Becky laughed. “No. That seemed too cliché for me so I didn’t have one brought in.”

Hermione laughed along with her, relaxing a bit as she took a seat. The office was decorated in bright colours, with magical landscape prints adorning two walls along with a few bookcases and several framed diplomas. There were two seats in the room in addition to the one that sat behind a large oak desk. Hermione sat in one, while Dr. Becky took the one that sat directly across from her.

Hermione watched as the doctor crossed her legs and placed a pad of paper on her knee.

“Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself. Is that okay?”

Hermione nodded. “Uh, I guess. I’m 23 years old, I fought in the war beside Harry Potter, I didn’t graduate from Hogwarts, and I’ve spent the last three years trying to find destructive ways of forgetting the things I had to do during the war.”

“Ah, okay. What is it that bothers you most about what you just said?”

“What do you mean?”

“Outside of your age, Hermione, the things you told me were all negative. What is it about those things that bother you the most?”

Hermione shrugged. “I’ve not acted in the best possible manner these last three years. I’ve treated my friends abominably, I’ve done...things...that I’m not proud of. I guess that’s what bothers me the most.”

“And, right of the top of your head, do you know why you reacted that way?”

“I want to forget…” Hermione whispered.

“And why’s that?”

“I killed people!” Hermione shouted, snapping. She stood up and began to pace back and forth, making sure to avoid the doctor’s eyes. She knew that the woman would judge her. Everyone judged her.

“And that bothers you,” Becky said. “Why? You were in a war. Surely, as a soldier, you expected to kill people in defense of your life.”

“B-but I wasn’t a soldier, dammit! I was a child.”

Dr. Becky uncrossed her legs and pulled herself forward in the chair. Hermione caught this out of the corner of her eye as she continued to pace back and forth. “Then why did you fight?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Hermione said immediately. But she knew it was a lie. She hadn’t fought because Voldemort was evil and wanted to rule the world. Nor did she do it because of any fear of being killed by the dark wanker. No. Hermione knew she had fought for one reason, and one reason only.

To keep Harry Potter alive.

“Is that what you believe or is it the truth?” Dr. Becky asked. “You didn’t have to fight, Hermione. You could have gone with your parents, kept them safe. Why didn’t you?”

Hermione flopped down in the chair then buried her head in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red and there were tears running down her cheeks. “I couldn’t leave Harry behind.”

Becky looked at her intently. “Why not? Harry Potter is a powerful wizard, and while I have no doubt that you made winning the war easier for him, he could have done it without you. Why did you have to stay?”

Hermione glared at the doctor. “You think I should have left him behind? He would have died!”

“I don’t think that, Hermione. I want to know why you acted in the way you did. It will help. Now, why did you have to stay?”

“Harry would have died,” Hermione responded, crossing her arms across her chest tightly while continuing to glare at the woman sitting across from her. This was a mistake. These questions weren’t going to help her. All they had accomplished so far was to dig up memories that she would have rather forgotten about.

“Maybe, but why was it _your_ responsibility?”

“Because I love him!” Hermione shouted. Her hand came up and covered her mouth in shock before she started to sob. “I love him. I couldn’t let him die.”

-:::-

When she got back to Grimmauld Place Hermione shut herself in her room, knowing that she wasn’t in any mood to socialize with Harry or anyone else. Honestly, she was feeling better than she had in years, and it felt odd. How could one session, where she had spent most of the time glaring at her shrink, be such a success?

Granted, she hadn’t talked about the war all that much, but just coming clean about _why_ she had fought in the war had felt good – though not really at the moment.

It felt really good now, though.

Her feelings for Harry still scared the shit out of her. Knowing that there was someone that she would literally go to war for – die for, if necessary – had scared the daylights out of her since the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. It was why she had tried – unsuccessfully – to put some distance between her and Harry during their sixth year. Because in the end, it hadn’t bothered her that she had almost _died_ during their fight at the DoM. It didn’t matter, because she had done so for _Harry._ And the realization that she would lay down her life for someone else was a terrifying thought.

Even during her horrible sixth year where she had hurt Harry more than she ever had before, her feelings didn’t go away. They got stronger and stronger until Hermione had no doubt that she was in love with Harry Potter and that she always would be. After that, she knew there was no way she was going to leave him to fight a war by himself.

Hermione flopped down on her bed and covered her eyes with her arm. None of it mattered though, because while she felt better for unloading the secret she’d been carrying for so long, she couldn’t tell Harry that she loved him.

First, there was no way he could feel the same. No chance in hell. Harry liked sporty, beautiful girls. At least, that was the way he had been when they were in Hogwarts. Hermione knew she was quite pretty, but she wasn’t anything like Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley in terms of looks. Hermione was taller, curvier, and had a bushy head of hair that she knew she would never tame.

Also, Harry hadn’t ever even looked her way, at least not that she was aware of. Even after she had lost her baby fat and had started to pay attention to her looks, Harry had never looked at her with desire. To him, Hermione was more a Ron with tits than an object for sexual satisfaction.

It pissed her off once she realized that she was never going to get over the bastard.

The other reason why she was never going to tell Harry her feelings was more to do with her than him. Hermione would never, ever, want to put him through the wringer that was her life. She was a mess and she knew it. Even if she succeeded with therapy, Hermione knew that she would continue to be a mess for the rest of her life. She wouldn’t make Harry put up with that as a romantic partner. It wouldn’t be fair.

She was also worried that if she did manage to convince him to see her in a romantic light, that she’d just end up using him like she used all the faceless and nameless men that she’d fucked over the last three years. Harry Potter would never be just another notch on her bedpost. She refused to use him like that.

Hermione sighed and rolled over. She was exhausted. Before she could give in to the idea of a nap, however, she heard someone tapping on her door.

“Hermione? You in there?”

“Harry? I thought you’d be at work?”

“I brought home some comfort food,” he said. “I thought you could use it.”

Hermione cursed her heart for ‘melting.’ She wanted to scoff at it and tell it to stop ‘melting’ or whatever, because she wasn’t a sappy teenager whose crush was adorable and sweet and...fuck, she really needed to get Harry out of her system or she’d spill her secret again just like she had an hour earlier.

“That was sweet,” she said finally, getting up from her bed. Hermione was an adult, or so she tried to tell herself. She could stomach a nice meal with the love of her life.

Even if he didn’t know, and would never know that he held that title.

-:::-

 **12 October** **2002**

Harry entered his doctor’s office and sighed heavily as he sat down in the waiting room. Dr. Becky’s office was decorated like every other doctor’s office out there except that it had moving images instead of muggle pictures. Moving diagrams of the brain and charts of human emotions graced the walls alongside pretty little prints that changed depending on who viewed them.

It had been a long day already. A full day of work at the DoM had resulted in absolutely none of his experiments going the way he had hoped. He’d been studying the Veil of Death for months now, finally having convinced his superiors that it was worthwhile, but so far everything he’d tried had led to nothing. No new data. Merlin, he hated that phrase with a passion.

“Lord Black, Dr. Becky will see you now,” the receptionist called out. Harry stood up and gave her a charming smile.

As Harry walked into Dr. Becky’s inner office, he marveled at how comfortable he had become here. When he had first started to see the mind healer – or magical psychologist, as she preferred to be called – he had been a nervous wreck. He’d also been completely unwilling to talk that first time, despite knowing that he’d eventually have to open up.

Harry wondered how Hermione’s first time here had gone. She’d been very silent on her sessions with their shared doctor, not that he’d pressed for information or anything. Though he was very curious. Not that he'd even had a chance to help her, Harry thought with a scowl.

“Harry,” Dr. Becky greeted, standing from her chair. Harry had to admit that Dr. Becky Bower was a very attractive woman. It had been a bit hard for him the first few times. He’d never done well interacting with beautiful women outside of Hermione, and having to admit weakness to one was even harder. Eventually, he’d gotten over it. Today she was dressed in a tan skirt and white blouse combo that accentuated her figure while still looking professional. Harry couldn't help but notice how the tall heels she wore made her legs look fantastic.

“Dr. Becky,” Harry smiled.

“Have a seat. How are you this week?”

“Fine,” Harry said as he took a seat across from the doctor.

“Harry...You know how I hate it when you use that word. Why do you pay me so much money if you’re going to lie?”

Harry groaned and leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything. He knew he was going to talk. He always did. Dr. Becky was more skilled than any investigator at digging for secrets and feelings.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with this. How’s Hermione? You didn’t say much about her in our last two sessions since she showed up on your doorstep.”

Harry shrugged. “She’s living with me now.”

“Oh?”

Harry raised his head. “Yeah. I wanted her near and she wanted to get out of her flat since she was worried she’d fall into old habits if she stayed there.”

“That makes sense. Are you comfortable sharing a home with her?”

Harry just shrugged.

“Harry…”

“I’m okay with it. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he said sharply. Harry sighed. “I’m just worried about her. That first couple of weeks we really got on well, despite everything that happened. But now she’s avoiding me. She shuts herself in her bedroom, even eating up there.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“Sure. I mean I knocked on her door and asked her to talk to me, but she just said she was busy.”

“Well, maybe she’s working through some things. I’m sure it will blow over.”

“Maybe,” Harry said doubtfully. It really worried him. Honestly, Hermione’s avoidance of him had started right after her first session with Dr. Becky. Harry wanted so badly to ask what had been talked about, but he knew that Dr. Becky wouldn't tell him, so he tried to curb his curiosity.

“Alright,” Dr. Becky said. “How did you do with your dream journal this week?”

Harry stayed silent.

“It’s been worse since she showed up, right? Harry? You wouldn’t talk about this last week.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, it’s been worse.”

“What have you been dreaming about?”

“I hear her screaming a lot. Sometimes it's from Malfoy Manor and what happened there. Sometimes it’s worse.”

“Worse?”

Harry gulped and looked away. “I saw what happened to a lot of the muggleborn girls in the camps. The monsters destroyed those girls over and over again until they were just burnt out husks. The dreams have Hermione in their position. It was my worse fear for almost the whole war that she’d be taken and that while I was searching for her that they’d… hurt her in that way.”

“Have you ever talked about it with anyone other than me?”

“No,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “No, it’s not anything I can bring up to anyone else. It’s not as if it happened to her. I’m so thankful that it didn’t, but I can’t stop my brain from putting those images in my head.”

“And of course, with her avoiding you, it makes it worse,” Dr. Becky said shrewdly.

“Yeah…”

“Alright. Here’s what I want you to do. Remember about a year ago, the nightmares came back? When that happened I had you go through your photos and look at better times between you and Hermione. I want you to do that again right before bed. That way you have better images in your brain right before you go to sleep. Hopefully, that will help push the nasty nightmares away.”

“I also want you to give Hermione a push,” Dr. Becky continued. “You can’t force her to talk to you, of course, but I want you to make it harder for her to avoid you. Put yourself in positions where she either has to be in the same room as you or something like that. I obviously can’t reveal anything she has talked about with me, but she shouldn’t be avoiding you.”

Harry nodded. “I can do that. The pictures thing worked last time. I should have remembered.”

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m here.” Dr. Becky grinned. “I also want you to go back to _The Dungeon._ I know you’ve been avoiding it since Hermione turned up, but I don’t want you to put your life aside while your relationship with her heals. Going will also serve as a reminder that you’re in charge of your life and that you have your own choices to make. You’re not beholden to your relationship with Hermione Granger.”

Harry nodded. It was another good idea. He hadn’t been going to _The Dungeon_ since Hermione had shown up. For one, he wanted to focus on restoring their friendship, and Hermione – being the curious person she was – would undoubtedly want to know where he was going. Secondly, now that she was back in his life, Harry had foolish hopes that she might want him as more than a friend and he didn’t want to jeopardize those chances by being with other women.

But Harry saw that he was being silly. He and Hermione didn’t have that type of relationship, and he shouldn’t have to put his needs on hold in order to keep her happy. Not that he thought she’d have a problem with him getting laid, but he was still a bit uneasy about her finding out about his kinky sex life.

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me some reviews.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have a heart to heart. Harry gets a reminder of what it means to be a good Dom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed this story, I love you all. Not in the creepy way. The good way. Maybe the creepy way too. ;) 
> 
> Once again, if you see extra spaces anywhere, that's Ao3 doing something funky. 
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter** : PTSD, Panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts, extremely bad Dom appearance, bad BDSM etiquette, explicit assault (at the end, and not on either H or Hm)

**1** **3** **October** **2002**

It turned out that Harry didn’t have to do anything to get Hermione to talk to him. He had decided to give her a couple more days before he gave her the push that Dr. Becky had asked him to give her. The night after his session with his mind healer, he was sitting in bed in his boxers going through his photo album, looking at photos of his relationship with Hermione during better times. These images were mostly from before the war broke out.

Harry smiled softly at one particular image. The two of them were sitting on a large boulder that sat on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts. Harry wasn’t sure who had taken the image, but they had caught  Hermione snuggling up to Harry’s side and putting her head on his shoulder. 

They’d been so close during fourth year. He’d come so close to asking her out that year, but with everything going on, Harry couldn’t even think about her rejecting him and leaving him behind, so he’d chickened out and decided that he just needed to be happy with her friendship.

Harry was brought out of his nostalgia by someone knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he called out as he sat the photo album aside.

Harry looked up when Hermione walked into his bedroom. He could tell she had something on her mind by the way she was looking shiftily around the room, avoiding his gaze.

“Mia? What’s going on?”

Hermione stopped at the edge of the bed and finally looked at him. Her eyes were red. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry?”

“For avoiding you these last few weeks.”

“Can I ask why?” Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. “After my first appointment with Dr. Becky, I started thinking and I realized I had so many issues, I just needed to have some space.”

“From me?”

“From everyone. I just needed to think.”

“Okay. I didn’t think that you were mad or anything. I was just worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

Harry gestured and Hermione crawled up on his bed, allowing him to hug her tight. He breathed in her scent and sighed deeply. He was never going to be able to get over this woman. Harry had tried so hard _not_ to love her, and it was just impossible. It didn’t matter who he was with sexually, it was always going to come back to her.

“What’s with the photo album?” Hermione asked after a few minutes.

Harry sighed. There was no way he was going to tell Hermione about his nightmares – almost all of which revolved around her in some way or another. Instead, he just said, “Just reliving some memories from the past.”

“Can you show me?”

“Sure.” Harry picked up the album and put it on his lap. He stiffened for a moment when Hermione moved so that she was snuggled right up against him, but eventually he relaxed and flipped open the photo book.

“Oh, we were so small,” she said, almost cooing.

Harry laughed. “We sure were. Me more than either of you.” The picture was of the Golden Trio just after they had become friends at Halloween 1991. Hagrid had taken the photo right after they had introduced him to Hermione. “Though Ron was gangly even then.”

Hermione giggled. She turned her attention to the photo on the other page. “Hagrid doesn’t change, but he makes you look even smaller.”

“Yeah. I miss him.”

“Me too.”

Harry flipped the page. Hermione burst out laughing.

“Ron still eats like that. Who took that picture?” She asked.

“I don’t remember. I think it was one of his brothers, though.” In the picture, Ron was eating chicken, but in usual Ron fashion, he had a drumstick in each hand, alternating taking bites from each one, his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk. “Are you going to talk to him soon?”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not really ready to go out and be seen yet, but maybe I’ll floo him or something.”

Harry didn’t believe that she would for a moment but decided not to say anything. Hermione would rebuild her life in whatever way worked best for her, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change that. All he could do was be there for her.

They kept going through photos, about a dozen or so for each of the years they were in Hogwarts. When they go to the photo that Harry had been looking at when Hermione had knocked on his door, he heard Hermione gasp and then she buried her face on his shoulder. Harry could feel her shaking and his t-shirt was getting wet from her tears.

“Mia?”

Hermione just let out a sob, so Harry pushed the photo album off of his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He maneuvered them so he was laying down her with her cuddled up beside him. He soothed her by whispering nonsense into her hair and pressing kisses to her head. Over time, Hermione calmed down, leaving Harry to wonder what had caused her to break down in such a way over that particular picture.

Hermione slowly pulled away from him, but she didn’t move too far, keeping their bodies pressed together. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to react to her closeness.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she whispered.

“What was that about, Hermione?”

“We...we used to be so close and I ruined that.”

“Oh, Mia. We’ll get there again. I promise.”

“But what if I mess it up again?” Hermione asked, her voice hoarse. “I mean I’ve been avoiding you for weeks. And you’ve been so great. You’ve got me help and let me move in and held me when I’ve needed it and let me cry on your shoulder. And I just...I just keep hurting you and hurting you. You’d be so much better off if...if I weren’t here.”

Harry scowled. He could feel that by ‘if I weren’t here’ meant something much more sinister. He pulled away from her so he could look into her eyes. “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be here. I mean it, Hermoine. You’re my life and have been since I was eleven years old. Have you messed up?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. But who hasn’t? I’ve messed up plenty. I caused Sirius’ death. I’m the reason why Cedric Diggory was killed. I was there when Dumbledore was murdered and I did _nothing_.”

“But…”

“I know. Those weren’t my fault. Dr. Becky told me that. You’ve told me that. Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley. Hell, even Sirius told me that when I used the Ressurection Stone. It doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there or real. We all mess up. There are consequences for our actions, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t make up for them. Move on and be happier. If you weren’t alive, Hermione, if I had lost you like I’ve lost everyone else, I wouldn’t _want_ to live anymore.”

Hermione sobbed and flopped down on top of him again, burying her head into his chest. Harry just held her close, wanting desperately to let her know that she was wanted, needed and that he loved her beyond measure.

-:::-

**1** **5** **October** **2002**

Harry walked into  _ The Dungeon _ uncertainly. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be here if he were being honest with himself. After his time the last two days with Hermione, he felt almost like he was cheating by coming to a sex club with the possibility of getting laid. But Dr. Becky had been right about how he had been putting his needs aside because of Hermione’s reentrance into his life. The problem was Harry wasn’t sure that doing so was the wrong thing to do.

What if he did have a chance with Hermione? Would she be upset with him for doing this? Would she even want to be in a relationship with someone who wanted to be in a BDSM relationship? 

He was so confused. 

With all that in mind, Harry decided that he wasn’t in a proper state of mind to participate. So when the man at the reception desk asked him, Harry replied, “I’m going to observe today. Are there any planned scenes taking place?”

“Yes, sir. Dom  Terry is here and he has sub twins.”

Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. He had seen Dom Terry’s work before. The man was very creative in his punishments and treatment of his subs. He’d never seen anyone take on twins before. It wasn’t something that he had really ever thought about or been particularly interested in. Twins just didn’t really do it for him. The Patil Twins were gorgeous women, and he’d lost his virginity to Padma, but he didn’t think that he’d really want to have sex with them together. Maybe it was just that Parvati was so damn annoying and his only other experience with twins were Fred and George. The thought alone made him shiver.

“ _Oh…” Said Fred._

“ _Yeah…” Replied George sultrily._

Ugh. Twin speak in bed. 

Harry refocused on Albert, the man who was most frequently manning the reception desk at  _ The Dungeon _ . “Anything else?”

“Nothing planned. Dom Kevin is here with a new sub,” Albert looked down at his ledger, “named Reyna.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll give that a try. Is there a room available?”

“Yes, sir. 4P is available.”

Harry took the key he was offered and then walked down one of the hallways off to the opposite side of the sex shop. This particular hallway was filled with photos of all sorts of debauchery. Harry himself had four images scattered throughout the hallways of  _ The Dungeon.  _ Room 4P as actually on the second floor, so Harry took the stairs at the end of the hallway and made his way to his assigned room.

The inside of the room was painted a bright red with non-magical images on the two side walls. The main feature was a full wall made of glass. This was one-way glass similar to what Harry had seen in several TV shows. It allowed a full view of the room on the other side. Like other main rooms, the playroom was filled with several magically enchanted pieces of BDSM furniture and a large king-sized bed. 

Along the walls of the playroom hung all sorts of implements for pleasure and pain. Currently, the couple in the room were on the bed. The woman was on her hands and knees while the man thrust deep inside her cunt. 

Harry sighed. He’d either jumped in at the end of their session or they hadn’t been very kinky to begin with.  While the woman was very attractive, Harry wasn’t really that interested in her. Long red hair wasn’t really his thing anymore.

He was just about to leave when he noticed something odd. The dom, Kevin – who he’d never watched before – had two cocks. Huh. Well, that was some interesting magic. Harry sat back in his chair, much more interested than he had been. 

There was a lot of sex magic out there. The wizarding world wasn’t as prudish as one would expect given that the rest of the culture was stuck in the 1800s. This allowed a lot of development of spells and potions designed to enhance a witch or wizard’s sex life. The double cock spell wasn’t something that Harry had ever seen before. There were other spells that allowed for double penetration, but the second phallus was made up entirely of invisible magic. There was also a charm that could be used on a dildo to animate it. 

But Dom Kevin actually had two cocks. They were appropriately placed, allowing him to fuck the redhead's cunt and ass at the same time. And, apparently – given the look of utter bliss on the Dom’s face – it allowed him to feel both cocks at the same time. 

This was something Harry decided that he had to learn. He wondered where the man had found the spell. 

Harry watched as the couple came to shattering climaxes one after the other. Dom Kevin spanked his sub’s ass as he pulled out of her holes and dispelled one of the cocks. Harry winced. That had to be an odd sensation. Would it feel like vanishing your dick?  


“Good job, slut. Not bad for a first-timer.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you ready for some more?”

“ Yes, sir. I’d love to please you,” the redhead answered. Harry for the life of him couldn’t remember her name. She still reminded him uncomfortably of Ginny, but the fact that her Dom knew some cool magic was enough for Harry to stay.

D om Kevin picked his sub up and carried her towards the Saint Andrews Cross. After a few minutes, he had the girl strapped tightly to the cross. Harry was a bit peeved that he hadn’t explained the magical release system to his sub, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be needed. Harry knew that there were stiff penalties for Doms who didn’t do a good job of protecting their subs. 

“I’m going to use the single lash,” Kevin said. “I want you to count them.”

“Yes, sir,” The girl -- Reyna, Harry now remembered, answered nervously.  


Harry watched as Kevin selected a flogger off the wall and walked around the girl. The first crack of the whip was much harder than Harry expected it to be given that Albert had mentioned that this was the girl's first time at the club.

Reyna didn’t count. Instead, she screamed out in pain. A terrible scream that held no pleasure in it. 

“You didn’t count, slut,” Kevin said angrily, a sneer properly in place on his face. Harry didn't like the look. The man reminded him too much like Snape when he had that look on his face.  


The girl just sobbed.

Kevin struck again, this time even harder. Harry stood up, his gaze narrowed. The girl screamed so loud this time that Harry was afraid her vocal cords were going to suffer. 

“Red!” The girl shouted out.

Harry watched as Kevin scowled. He then brought the whip down on the girl’s arse again. And again. Harry rushed forward and grasped the alarm rope that was in all the rooms. These ropes were attached to bells that rang in the security office and were meant to be used in case any observer noticed anything wrong in the playroom. Like a Dom continuing to use a punishment device after the sub had used her safe word.

“Please stop!” the young redhead pleaded after Kevin’s latest strike. The asshole just scowled again and brought the whip down again. And Again. And again. Each strike harder than the last. Reyna was only sobbing at this point, her breathing so hard Harry was sure she was about to pass out.  


_ Come _ on... Harry thought, almost begging security to make their entrance. 

When Kevin was about to bring it down another time, and just as Harry was about to find his way into the playroom, two burly men rushed into the room and stunned him, causing Kevin to fall to the floor unconscious with a loud satisfying thump. 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d seen Doms lose their way before, but it had been a while. It definitely wasn’t what he had expected when he came in, but it was a good reminder that even the best Doms could be assholes if they lost control over themselves.  


Harry sat back down, the adrenaline flowing out of him. The glass in front of him went smoky as staff from  _ The Dungeon _ came in to secure Kevin and release the girl from her bondage. Harry knew that she’d be given the most intensive medical care that she could and that they’d work through the experience with her to see that it didn’t happen again. 

N ot that he expected her to ever come back if this was her first experience subbing. With a final shake of his head, Harry left his observation room and made his way out of  _ The Dungeon _ , much more frustrated than he had been when he arrived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are awesome. Be awesome.
> 
> Next chapter we'll see a time jump.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione discovers something Harry has tried to keep hidden, and she can't get it out of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things about this chapter. First, note the time jump. This takes place about two months after the last chapter.
> 
> Second, I'm not an expert on psychology or any other type of mental study. Most of what I have here just comes from one class in college, and that was 10 years ago. 
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter** : Discussion on the psychology of BDSM.

**14 December 2002**

Hermione Granger sipped at her tea after turning the page on the book she’d been reading for the last few hours. Or, at least, that she’d been trying to read. Honestly, she hadn’t gotten very far. Her thoughts were on the things she had found in Harry’s bedroom earlier when she had gone there to drop off some laundry.

She didn’t know what to make of the books on BDSM or the box of sex toys that he had hidden under his bed. Or the photos of him with other women.

Okay, so maybe she had been snooping. A little. But she had been soooo bored.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to stay at home and do nothing, but without her NEWTS, there were few jobs in the wizarding world that she was suitable for. Those that she was suitable for, she’d already had during the last three years at one point or another.

And honestly, Hermione wasn’t sure she was ready to put herself out there for another career. She’d failed at that so often in the last three years, she was sure she’d just fail again. Hermione shook those thoughts away. For the three months, since she’d been staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry, she’d made a lot of progress mentally.

She had started to see Dr. Becky at least three times a week. The woman was a godsend, and Hermione adored her. And while she occasionally slipped, Hermione was feeling much better about herself. The nightmares were much less frequent than they had been, she’d stopped drinking entirely, and she had rid herself of all of her ‘friends’ who had actually been nothing but a few people she would regularly get smashed with and who almost always encouraged her to do things she shouldn’t.

The best thing that had happened over the last three months was that she was closer to Harry than she had ever been before. It wasn’t something that she thought was possible for multiple reasons. For one, they’d been pretty close during their Hogwarts years and during the war. The fact that she felt closer to him now was quite astonishing.

The other thing about it was that Hermione would have bet a lot of money – money that she didn’t have – that she had ruined any friendship she might have had with Harry. Her behavior over the three years since the war had ended was atrocious by any standard.

After her brief ‘issue’ after her initial appointment with Dr. Becky, Hermione had vowed to work as hard as she could on getting herself right. Not only for herself, but for Harry. Harry had done everything he could to be supportive of her, and not just financially. He was there when she came back from a tough session with Dr. Becky. He routinely came to help her through the nightmares that sometimes crept up on her. He was her rock, and she was in love with him.

Not that she hadn’t known that already, but she was more in love with him now than she had been when she had arrived on his doorstep.

The problem, however, was that Hermione didn’t know how to move on. She had thought about taking her NEWTS and maybe getting a job at the Ministry, but she didn’t know if that was the right direction for her or if she was even ready to take that step. She felt restless, like she was missing something. Hermione had talked about it with Dr. Becky, but nothing had truly been resolved.

“ _ Everyone heals and moves on at their own pace,”  _ her therapist had said.  _ “There is no rush with these things. If you rush it, you’ll find the outcome less than perfect. The best thing you can do is to rely on your support system and work through it day by day. Eventually, you’ll get where you want to go. _ ”

Hermione thought that was pretty useless advice, really. The whole ‘just give it time’ thing was, while normally quite good advice, seriously impractical because Hermione had never been known for her patience.

Hermione looked down at her book. She hadn’t made any progress at all, so she slammed it shut and sat it down heavily on the side table next to the sofa that she’d been sitting on since she’d come back down from her investigation of Harry’s room.

Why did he have a stash of kinky sex toys? Hermione wasn’t stupid. She knew that it was likely that Harry’d had many sexual partners over the last three years. He was hot and wealthy and a really nice guy. She would have never thought of him as someone who enjoyed BDSM or anything kinky like that, however.

Whenever she thought about sex with Harry, Hermione always imagined slow and sensual, loving even. She was sure he could be loving, but that he was interested in what? Spanking someone’s ass? Tieing them up? It just seemed so out of character for him.

Still, she was curious now. BDSM wasn’t something she’d ever given much thought to, but damn if the thought of being put into some handcuffs and bent over a table didn’t do it for her. Especially if the person bending her over was Harry. Maybe that was just because she was horny or maybe there was something more to it, Hermione didn’t know. She’d never thought herself submissive before.

Hermione shoved those thoughts aside and decided that she would try to read again. Thinking about getting her arse smacked by her best friend wasn’t a good idea.

-:::-

**17 December 2002**

“So this is our last session of the year. Is there anything specific you’d like to talk about?” Dr. Becky asked Hermione.

Hermione took her usual seat and pulled her feet up so her knees were against her chest. “Maybe.”

“Okay, that’s mysterious,” Dr. Becky teased.

“I...uh...I found something in Harry’s room, and it’s messing with my brain,” Hermione said, trying not to meet the doctor’s eyes. She couldn’t believe that she was bringing this up, but in the three days, since she’d found Harry’s secret sex stash, she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. Just the idea of him dominating her was so arousing that she hadn’t been able to focus on anything else for three days. Not to mention that she hadn’t been able to meet her best friend’s eyes during that entire time.

“Okay, let’s start with the most interesting part of that statement,” Dr. Becky said. “What were you doing in Harry’s room? Something naughty?”

“No!” Hermione answered too quickly.

Becky laughed. “Relax, I was just teasing. So, what did you find in the Chosen One’s room? Did you find some secret journal that he keeps expressing his desires to rule the world?”

“Gah, you sound like Rita Skeeter,” Hermione complained.

“Where do you think I got the idea from? Skeeter says Harry is the next Dark Lord six times a week.”

“More like twelve times, but true,” Hermione said with a laugh. 

“So, what did you find? The suspense is killing me.”

Hermione mumbled.

“I didn’t hear that Hermione, speak up.”

“Harry has sex toys and pictures and BDSM stuff under his bed.”

Dr. Becky giggled. “You found his sex stash?”

“Yes. It’s not funny! I can’t get it out of my head!”

Dr. Bower calmed down and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have laughed. What is it about his BDSM stuff that bothers you?”

“I’m not bothered by it necessarily,” Hermione replied cagily.

“Oh? Intrigued maybe?”

Hermione blushed but nodded.

“Okay, we can work with that. Let’s start with your thoughts on what you think about Harry right now, now that you know he has...kinkier interests than you might have believed.”

“I still love him,” Hermione shrugged. “This doesn’t change that. And being kinky isn’t...I don’t know, a turn off or anything.”

“Does he know you found his stash?”

“No, thank God. If he knew I don’t think that I’d be able to be in the same room as him. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve not been able to look him in the eye since I found this stuff.”

“Why?”

Hermione shrugged again. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About the items themselves or Harry using the items.?”

“The second one. On me.”

Dr. Becky smiled. “Ah. So you might have found your own bit of kinkiness, eh? Does that bother you?”

“No, but it is distracting. And embarrassing.”

“Fetishes and such aren’t anything to be embarrassed by, Hermione. But let’s move on. What about BDSM intrigues you? Or is it simply being intimate with Harry that draws you in?”

Hermione thought about it for a minute. “I think it’s both. I don’t think I’d want to do any kind of BDSM or whatever with some random stranger. I remember I brought home one guy about a year ago who spanked me while we were having sex and it really turned me off.”

“But the thought of doing that with Harry…?”

“I mean, I’ve never had sex with Harry, but the thought of him spanking me is really arousing. And other things too. He had images of him whipping some woman. And one where he was having one girl crawl around on a leash attached to her neck. It was...easy to picture myself in those positions with Harry.”

“Interesting. Okay, so let’s talk about this some more. First, what do you know about BDSM?”

Hermione shook her head. “Almost nothing. I know that some people practice it? Is that even the right term? I don’t know. I know it involves pain.”

“Not always, but sometimes,” Dr. Becky corrected. “I’ll write down the titles of some books and you can read about BDSM. There are all sorts of activities, I guess you’d say, that can be considered part of BDSM. It isn’t even always about sex. The one thing that is almost always about is control. One party, the Dom, is in control, while the sub gives control away. This can be for a scene, as we call it, or it could be around the clock. And everything in between. Some practitioners are only in it for the sex, so most of their kinkiness happens in the bedroom. I know one couple who have never had sex with each other as they see each other as brother and sister, who are in a Dom/sub relationship. She keeps him on track financially and professionally because he can’t seem to do it on his own.”

“Wow, it seems much more complicated than I thought it would be.”

“There’s a lot there. What I’d like to talk about is the feelings and needs behind it. What is it about doing some of those things you imagined with Harry that turns you on the most?”

“I don’t know?”

“Can I give it a try?” Dr. Becky asked. Hermione nodded. She was truly flummoxed as to why she was so turned on by the thought of Harry dominating her. “You’ve told me that as a young girl, really through all of your education and even before, that you looked up to authority figures. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And you loved to follow rules?”

Hermione shrugged. “Sure, when I could. I did end up breaking rules an awful lot when at Hogwarts.”

“But for good reasons?”

“Yeah. Someone needed to keep Harry out of trouble,” Hermione said with a smile.

“It’s possible that you’re submissive in the sense that you require guidance.”

“But doesn’t that make me weak?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.

“No. Not at all. I can see why you would think that, but being submissive isn’t about being weak. Submissives are often the strongest part of the relationship. Subs have the real control over everything because they are giving any control the Dom has and can take it away at any moment. Let’s put that aside for a moment and dive a bit deeper and see if we can’t identify why you might be interested in the BDSM lifestyle.”

“Okay,” Hermione said uncertainly.

“Over the last few sessions, hell, for the last month, what has been your biggest complaint outside of the nightmares?”

“Lack of direction,” Hermione answered.

“Right. And we’ve not been able to figure out why you can’t seem to move on after the war.” Hermione nodded. “Hermione, I know you fairly well now, and you are someone who needs to have a purpose in your life. Whether that’s saving the house elves from abusive masters in your fourth and fifth years or keeping your best friend alive, you need to have something to work towards. Do you think that’s right?”

Hermione thought about that for a minute. Was that her problem, that she didn’t have a cause to fight for? It made a lot of sense. With the war over and Harry safe, she had felt aimless almost from the moment Voldemort had hit the ground, deader than a doorknob. Outside of running away from the nightmares and the memories, it was entirely possible that she had behaved the way she had the last three years simply because she had no purpose. It was scarily accurate.

“Yeah, I think that’s right. I always did best with something to do, some bigger purpose. But what does that mean for now? The war is over. Harry and his friends in the Wizengamot have done a great job of repealing the terrible laws. Does that mean there’s nothing left for me to do?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Becky smiled. “It simply means you need guidance on where you need to go next.”

“So I need a Dom?”

“Maybe. It’s one option. You might just need to find something else to fight for. Save the whales or something similar. Charity work. There are any number of ways you could go. But the BDSM route is interesting because it ties in with your bond with Harry Potter.”

“Oh?”

“BDSM isn’t all about sex, but it often starts that way. My thoughts are that you find the idea of being dominated by Harry fascinating because you yearn for an authority figure, and Harry’s been that authority figure for you since you were 12 years old.”

“What? No, he hasn’t. I always looked up to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, and I never wanted either of them to spank my ass.”

Dr. Becky laughed. “Of course not. Remember I said earlier, it’s not always about sex. You looked up to them, sometimes were entirely devoted to them, but Harry always came first. When you broke those rules you talked about, who did you do it for?”

“Harry,” Hermione answered.

“Right. So it wasn’t the ultimate authority of your professors that you were following, but the authority of your very best friend. Why did you lose your way after the war ended?”

“Because of the memories?”

“Maybe some of that, yes. Why else?”

“Lack of a cause, like you said?” Hermione asked, getting frustrated.

“Again, yes, but deeper than that. Why did you leave the wizarding world?”

“I...Because I thought Harry didn’t need me anymore,” Hermione blurted out after a moment.

“Exactly. You need Harry to need you more than anything else in the world. He’s the person you’re most devoted to, the one you would break any rule for...the one you’d die for in a heartbeat. Is it so out of the realm of possibility that he’s the one you look to for guidance more than anyone else, and that when you thought that he no longer wanted to guide you, you felt lost and angry?”

“Wow.” Hermione flopped back on her chair and buried her face into her knees. What the hell? Was she submissive? Had she been following her Dom the entire time she was at Hogwarts and not even realized it? Is that why the thought of Harry attaching a leash to her collar was so erotic?

“I think we’re going to stop there. I want you to read the books that I’ve written out here and I want you to think about why you need Harry to need you so badly.”

Hermione just nodded absentmindedly. She was so very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love you forever if you left a review.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart after Hermione learns the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. The next one might be delayed into December as I'm focusing mostly on NaNoWriMo right now, but we'll see.
> 
> Also, Hermione isn't likable in part of this chapter, but she regains her footing quickly. For those of you who are against angst, know that this is the last relationship angst for quite a while in this story. 
> 
> Warnings: Alcoholism

**2** **0** **December** **2002**

Grimmauld Place was a very festive place, at least now. Harry was quite proud of the renovations that he had done throughout the years. The whole house was much brighter than it had been before, and at Christmas time, it was especially so.

This year, Harry had decided to go all out. So he had gotten not only the biggest tree he could fit through the door – and in the library – but also two other, smaller trees that he had set up in the kitchen and sitting room. That way, no matter what room they were sitting in, there would be a tree to enjoy. He also decorated every other public room top to bottom.

Hermione was exasperated with him, but Harry had managed to finagle her help in decorating too. He wanted it to be awesome. After all, it was the first Christmas they’d spent together since the end of the war. With their friendship renewed, they were closer than ever, and Harry wanted to make it special. Hermione seemed to be doing much better, even if there were times where she was awkward for some reason, and Harry was glad that he had been able to be of help.

“Honestly, Harry! Enough with the tinsel already,” Hermione shouted. Harry grinned back at her. His grin changed to a mischievous smirk as he threw some of the tinsel he had been decorating with into Hermione’s hair causing her to shriek. Harry laughed riotously as she struggled to get the colorful plastic out of her wild hair. When she finally succeeded, she glared at him. “I’m going to kill you. Slowly and painfully, with every curse that I know.”

Harry just grinned at her. “No, you won’t.”

“Gah, you’re such a child,” Hermione grumbled. She was smiling, though, so Harry knew she wasn’t actually angry. “Can we just finish the decorating, please? We still have to find something for dinner.”

“I think we’re done,” Harry said happily. “It looks great, don’t you think?”

Hermione sighed. “It does.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Harry had noticed that she’d been a bit down the last few days. And while he’d tried to make up for it with his own enthusiasm, he knew something was going on with her.

“Sure,” Hermione shrugged.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know.” Hermione took a deep breath and took a step towards him. “I just miss my parents around this time of year. I keep thinking about what they must be doing right now. Are they happy? Do they have friends over?”

“Oh, Mia,” Harry said as he pulled her into a tight hug. He couldn’t help but be happy when Hermione snuggled in closer to him. It made him feel like a cad, but as close as they had become over the last few months, Harry couldn’t help the reemergence of his feelings for his long time best friend. Not that they’d ever really gone away in the first place.

“I know it’s stupid. I know. I did this to them. There’s no bringing back their memories, but I just...I miss them.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Hermione pulled back. “Not your fault, Harry. And I know what I did was necessary, or at least I know that now, but sometimes it's just hard.”

The two friends were silent for a few minutes before Hermione looked up and groaned.

“What?” Harry asked, looking above him to see what it was that had caught her attention. “Oh.”

Mistletoe.

He’d hung it the other day, not really thinking about it, other than about it being tradition. Now he was regretting it a bit. Deciding it would be best just to get it over with and then laugh it off, Harry pulled Hermione back towards him and kissed her right on the mouth.

The surprise came when Hermione wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Even when he tried to pull back, Hermione didn’t let go, and instead deepened the kiss.

Harry moaned as he felt Hermione’s tongue enter his mouth, seeking his. He slowly pulled her closer then he let his tongue take over as he sought to dominate her mouth. He just couldn’t help it. Very rarely did he kiss his partners at the club, and those had been his only ‘relationships’ during the last couple of years.

He so wanted to take Hermione right here on the floor. He wanted to own her body, her mind, her very soul. Just thinking of her wearing his collar – and maybe his ring too – made him incredibly hard. Before he could do something stupid like pin her to the wall, Harry pulled away sharply.

They were both breathing hard and staring at each other with wide eyes.

“I gotta go,” Hermione said in a rush, tearing her gaze away from his.

“Hermione…”

“Sorry,” she mumbled and then fled the room. Harry wasn’t an idiot. There was no way she was running away from this. If they let it fester, it was only going to get worse. So, he chased after her, knowing that he’d have to catch her before she got outside the wards either by floo or apparition.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted, spotting her near the doorway between the kitchen and the stairs leading up to the entry hall.

Eventually, he caught up to her just as she was grabbing for the floo powder. Harry grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

“Harry! Let me go,” she shouted.

“No,” Harry said calmly, despite breathing hard from their brief chase. “I’m not letting you run out of here upset because we kissed. We’re going to talk about this like adults.”

“But…”

“No. Listen, Mia, I know you, perhaps better than I know myself. I know if I let you leave, you’ll dwell on this for days, maybe weeks and it will be awkward and it will set us back months. Come back in here and we’ll talk about it. I promise you that if after that you still want to run, I’ll let you.”

“Fine,” she snapped as she wrenched her arm out of Harry’s grip. Harry followed her as she literally stomped back to the library. He winced as she flopped down on the sofa and crossed her legs. She looked like a frightened animal, just waiting to run or – in this case – attack. Harry wished he had thought to disarm her. “Well, are you going to talk,” she spat, “or are you just going to stare at me?”

Harry shook himself and then glared at her. He knew that when Hermione was scared of something she got angry. It was the way she had always been. But this was reminding him too much of how she had treated him right after the war. And given that they had just been kissing passionately just a few minutes before, it was quite the turnaround.

“Why were you going to run,” Harry asked.

Hermione stayed silent and continued to glower at him.

“Fine, if you won’t answer that question, then answer this,” he smirked down at her, “Did you like the kiss?”

Hermione blushed and turned away. Harry grinned.

“You did!”

“Don’t be so smug about it, Potter,” she snarled.

Harry laughed and sat down next to her, taking his life into his own hands with the way she was looking at him. “I liked it too.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, come on, Mia. There’s no way that can be a surprise to you. I’ve...hell, I’ve been in love with you since like second year. You had to have known that.”

Hermoine shook her head while bringing a hand up to cover her mouth which was still hanging open in shock.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s always been you. I thought you knew and just didn’t feel the same, which is why I didn’t say anything. You and Ron were doing that odd mating dance between fourth year and the end of the war, so I just stepped back.”

“But Ginny…” Hermione whispered, her hand now resting on her lap.

“Ginny and I were never going to last, and we both knew it, even before all hell broke loose. We’re too much the same, honestly. I couldn’t ever be with someone as domineering as she is, and it’s the same for her. She’s much better off with Neville who she can boss around without any consequences.”

“You...Harry, I don’t understand.”

“I’m in love with you, Hermione. I didn’t really know it for sure until sixth year, but after that, I was sure it was true. That’s why I liked that kiss so much. And I’m pretty sure you feel something too, based on your reaction to it.”

Hermoine blushed again and looked away.

“Hey,” Harry said, reaching over and grasping her chin gently. He turned her to face him. “Don’t turn away. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. If you want to just forget this ever happened, we can do that. I don’t want to drive you away again.”

Hermione shook her head. “You won’t. Lose me, that is.” She took a deep breath and then remet his gaze. “I can’t say it back, Harry. I...I’m just not ready. Maybe I am ready and I’m just too scared to do it, but I’m not...I’m just so bloody confused all the time. I can’t jump into a relationship with you right now. I’d ruin it for sure, and then you wouldn’t want me anymore and I can’t stand to lose you either.

“We just got our friendship back. I’ve worked hard to get my shit together, but I’m not there yet,” Hermione continued. “I was such an idiot before. I can’t do it again. I need to be...better before I can even think of giving you the love you deserve.”

Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. “First off, you were never an idiot. Don’t think about yourself that way. Dr. Becky would be so mad if she heard you say that about yourself. Second, how do you know we won’t work out?”

“Harry, I just said I’m a mess. I mean, I think I’m getting better, but I still can’t sleep through the night every night. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life. How could I even think about focusing on a relationship with you? I just…” She sobbed. “I don’t want to lose you, and I know if we try to be more, I will.”

Harry sighed. This hadn’t got as well as he’d hoped. Sure, he hadn’t planned on kissing her, but she’d _kissed him back_. Her taste still lingered on his lips and it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her again. But he wouldn’t do that.

Instead, he said, “We don’t have to, Mia. I’m okay staying friends. I would never force you into something you aren’t ready for.”

“Harry,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Harry grinned. “I’m not hurt. Maybe someday, you’ll be ready to say it back. If not, that’s okay too. You’re my best friend, and you always will be, no matter what.

“Now, are you hungry? I thought we could get Chinese.”

“No. I don’t have an appetite. I think I’m just going to lay down and sleep.”

Harry just nodded as he tried not to let his disappointment show. He stood and then grinned down at her. “I guess I should remove the mistletoe, eh? Wouldn’t want any more mistakes.”

Hermione just gave him a watery smile, which Harry counted as a win. Deciding it was best to give her some space, he wished her a good night and walked towards the kitchen. As he walked, he allowed his face to fall. That had been a clusterfuck if there ever was one. Harry cursed himself. How could he have let himself kiss her? Why did he tell her how he felt? But then he paused. Hermione had said she couldn’t say it back _yet._ Did that mean she loved him and just wasn’t ready to say it to him? Harry grinned. Maybe that hadn’t gone as bad as he had thought it had.

**2** **1** **December** **2002**

Hermione was not in a festive mood. It was almost Christmas, and she really just wanted to lock herself in the room Harry had graciously let her use, and not do anything. Well, maybe drink. She could really use a drink. Or a lot of drinks. All the drinks, really.

The previous night had been an utter disaster as far as she was concerned. Why the bloody hell had Harry hung mistletoe up when he knew that it was only going to be the two of them? It didn’t make any sense.

But then again, maybe it did. If he _wanted_ to kiss her all this time, the mistletoe was probably the best excuse.

And she’d kissed him back. Of course, she had. She’d only spent the last month thinking about how much she loved her best friend and how much she wanted him to fuck her senseless. Ever since her session with Dr. Becky back in early December, Hermione had been doing her reading. She still saw the doctor a few times a week, and they had talked more about Hermione’s sudden interest in BDSM. It seemed to all come back to her devotion to Harry and her need be needed by him.

It was all so confusing. Add on top of that, Hermione had known, just _known_ , that Harry didn’t love her in that way. She would have bet her life on it. He was her best friend and that was all. There was no way he was going to want to have the relationship she now dreamed of when he could literally have any witch in the world on his arm. She'd seen the pictures of him with Daphne Greengrass in his stash. The woman was everything that Hermione was not.

Besides, she wouldn’t drag him into her pathetic life. She wouldn’t.

“Fuck it,” Hermione said out loud. “I need a drink.”

With determination, she threw on a form-fitting dress and some heels, grabbed her purse, and left her room for the first time since the night before.

She didn’t notice Harry watching her with a sad look on his face, not that it would have stopped her if she had.

-:::-

The first drink was the hardest. She’d been dry since September, so taking that first sip was the one she hesitated on for the longest. After that, it was quite easy to get sloshed. Almost like riding a bike, really. The thought made Hermione giggle.

The pub was busy, but not jammed packed like it could have been. She’d chosen this one because she knew the bartender, and knew that he would watch out for her if she got too pissed. He’d taken good care of her a few times before, ensuring that she made it home without too much trouble when she was unable to make it there on her own. Hermione didn’t really expect to need his services this particular evening, but she wanted the option there just in case.

What was she doing with her life? Hermione took another shot and downed it quickly. She had no answers for herself.

For another hour, Hermione sat at the bar, drinking hard liquor one shot after another. She was pretty tipsy by the time she noticed a man sitting next to her.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The man asked with a sexy smile. Hermione grinned back at him. Maybe this was the way she could get Harry off of her mind. It had worked before, after all.

“Sure,” she replied happily.

The man ordered them both a shot. “So, what’s your name?” He asked.

“Hermione. What’s yours?”

“I’m Patrick. It’s nice to meet you. So what’s a pretty girl like yourself down here drinking all by herself?”

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione said, nodding at the bartender who has just pushed them a pair of shots.

“Okay, well then. To your health,” Patrick said, clinking his shot glass against hers. Hermione grinned and pushed the shot back.

The two talked for about an hour. Hermione didn’t really know what their conversation was about, but it was fun. More than a little drunk now, she decided that Patrick was perfectly nice and would definitely help her forget her problems.

So she kissed him.

Then she vomited on his shoes.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

With that, Hermione Granger passed out, her head hitting the bar on its way to the floor.

-:::-

Harry Potter was sad. No. Scratch that. He was pissed off. Also a bit depressed. But mostly he was just furious.

He’d seen Hermione in her short little dress and high heels take off earlier in the evening. He had wanted to stop her, knowing exactly what she was going to do, but he didn’t think he had the right.

Instead, he’d watched her go, and then he’d poured himself a firewhiskey and proceeded to gulp it down in one swallow. After he belched out the flames, he decided that he wasn’t going to get drunk. Sure, his heart was a bit singed, but he wasn’t broken-hearted or anything. He’d lived with his unrequited feelings for Hermione for years. He could continue to do so and be perfectly happy. If Hermione wanted to go back to the life she was living in September, then so be it. He could go back too.

With that thought, Harry ensured he was suitably dressed, grabbed his glamour ring – he didn’t want to be recognized this time – and apparated to _The Dungeon._ He really needed an ass to spank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll fix it, I promise. Also, I love reviews! Even if they're just to nag about how I just moved our couple a few steps back.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to The Dungeon, but things don't go the way he wanted. Then he gets a floo call from an old enemy, which leads to the best night of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one, just in time for the end of the year. The next chapter won't likely be here until the beginning of February. I'm going to try to get a whole bunch more written before I post again, and this chapter represents about half of what I have left. 
> 
> Sorry about the extra spaces that appear randomly. IDK why those happen, but I can't seem to get rid of them. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Discussions of alcoholism. Discussions of BDSM. Sex.

**2** **1** **December** **2002**

An hour later, and Harry decided that going to the club was a bad decision. Upon arrival, he had decided that he wanted to participate. There were a couple of subs waiting, so he’d met with both and finally agreed to a scene with a small red-headed woman who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. She had amazing tits, though, and Harry had been really looking forward to marking them with a whip or a cane.  Her a ss was nice too, and she’d agreed to some anal, which was always a treat.  It was the perfect thing to take his mind off of Hermione. 

However, when he’d gotten her wrists bound to a pair of chains that hung from the ceiling, and had grabbed a short studded whip, he realized that he wasn’t even close to being in the right headspace for what he was about to do. Not only was he heartbroken, but he was angry. So damn angry.

One thing he had learned since entering the BDSM scene was that it was not okay to go into any situation angry. Anger was an emotion that caused the most damage to subs  because it almost always caused the Dom to lose control, and control was everything. Harry had learned that very early on. If he wasn’t in control of himself, there was no way he could control the sub.  He’d seen an example of that not too long ago right here at  _ The Dungeon. _

So Harry had put the whip back on the wall and had used his safe word. The sub had been surprised, but when he had explained it to her after removing her from her bondage, she had actually smiled. “Thanks for being so responsible. Not all Doms have that kind of mental strength.”

Harry had just smiled weakly at her.

After they had parted ways, Harry was even more frustrated, so he decided that he would see if there was anything going on in any of the observation rooms. He often rented out an observation room when he wasn’t in the mood to participate, so it wasn’t unusual.

The problem was, it only made him more frustrated at himself. Watching the couple fuck didn’t actually make him feel any better, no matter how talented the  dominatrix seemed to be at pulling orgasms out of  her sub.  And  s he had been talented. In the twenty or so minutes Harry had watched, the blond-haired sub had come at least three times while taking a beating that any sub would’ve been proud of. 

So Harry had decided to give it all up as a bad job and had left the club. After returning to Grimmauld Place, he removed his glammour ring and poured himself another drink.

He had just taken a sip of whiskey when he heard the floo charm ding, indicating that someone was calling. Harry walked out into the entranceway where the main fireplace was located and noticed that Draco Malfoy’s face was in the fire.

“Draco? What are you calling at this time of night for?”

After the war,  Malfoy had been sentenced to a year of house arrest, mostly due to Harry’s intervention. Narcissa was let off with  only  a fine  due to her role in Harry’s survival in the Forbidden Forrest. Lucius was given life in prison. Surprisingly,  Draco had spent the time since the war working to bring his family name into the light. During that time,  Harry and he had become friends of a sort. While Harry wouldn’t say they were best mates or anything, they got along much better than they had during their Hogwarts years. More interestingly, Malfoy had decided to become a healer, so Harry was understandably worried why he’d be calling at such an hour. 

“Granger was brought in 10 minutes ago,” Draco said.

“What’s wrong with her?” Harry asked, concernedly. “She left here a couple of hours ago. I think she was going out to get drunk again.”

“She did. Apparently, she fainted and hit her head on the bar. She’s going to be fine, but you should come collect her.”

“She’s awake?” Harry asked.

“Yes. And she’s been sobered up via charm and potion. I don’t think she’s happy about that.”

Harry grumbled, “I bet she’s not.” Then he said louder, “Okay. I’ll come through and get her.”

Draco nodded and ended the call. Harry grabbed some floo powder and activated the fire once more. “Dammit Hermione,” he said to himself before flooing to St. Mungo’s.

-:::-

Hermione was not having a good night, and it got worse when Harry walked into her hospital room.

“Hermione, are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” Hermione snapped then winced as a hurt expression passed over Harry’s face before disappearing behind a more neutral mask. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just having a really bad night.”

“All that alcohol gone to waste,” Harry said sarcastically. Hermione glared at him, which caused his expression to soften. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad night. Let’s get out of here.”

Hermione nodded and stood up from the bed she’d been on for the last half hour. She immediately swayed on her feet. Harry grabbed her arm and held her steady. “Thanks.”

“ Sure. Come on, Healer Malfoy has your papers and your purse.”

“It’s still so weird for him to be so respectable,” Hermione murmured.

Harry laughed softly. “I agree.”

A half-hour later, they were back at Grimmauld Place. Harry had tried to lead her up to her bedroom but she insisted on sitting in the library, stating, “I have something to talk to you about.”

Harry didn’t really think they had anything else to say to one another, at least right now. It was obvious from their discussion the previous night that the best thing they could do was try to get back to normal. Hermione had said that she wasn’t ready to be with him. If the smear of her lipstick was any indication, that prohibition didn’t apply to other men. If that was the case, then Harry just needed to box his feelings back up into the box he’d been keeping them in and try to move on. Not that he thought he’d be very successful at doing it. He never had been before.

“What did you want to talk about,” Harry asked, somewhat impatiently, after they had taken seats in the library.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione said, looking down at her clenched hands that were resting in her lap. “I’m really sorry about last night. And I’m sorry for making it worse tonight by going out. But...I’m glad I did.”

“You’re glad you got so drunk you passed out and concussed yourself?” Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione giggled. “No. But I’m glad I went out tonight because it made me realize something. Last night, when we talked, I told you I wasn’t ready to talk about my feelings for you. I was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“ Wrong. I love you.” She looked at him, her eyes wet. “I love you so much, and I have for years. But my life is so fucked up and I don’t want to drag you down with me . I just can’t do that,  so I lied last night . But I also can’t go back to the life I was living before I knocked on your door in September. It was killing me, and I know now that it was killing you too.”

“Mia.”

“I love you, Harry. I’m sorry I fucked up again tonight. I should have just told you last night and it would have been so much better.”

Harry just got up and then sat back down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, too. And you don’t have to be perfect, Mia. I still have my own issues from the war. It’s going to take us both time. Maybe our whole lives to get over it, if we ever do.”

Hermione just cuddled into his side. Harry could feel her tears soaking into his shirt sleeve, but he ignored it. After several minutes, she pulled back.

“I fucked up tonight. I promised myself that I wouldn’t drink anymore but it was just so easy to go to the pub and get sloshed like the last two months hadn’t ever happened.”

“We’ll get you back on track…”

“I can do it, I know I can, but it just feels like I failed.”

“No, Mia, never. You’re not going to give up, I won’t let you, and you won’t let yourself do that either. So, you’ll pick yourself back up and do better this time. I’ll help and Dr. Becky will be there too.”

“Ugh. She’s going to be so mad.”

“No, she won’t. She’ll understand. And then she’ll help you just like she has been.”

“I kissed him,” Hermione blurted out. Harry froze.

“Who?”

“Tonight. At the bar. Some nice guy chatted me up and I was drunk and...and I let him kiss me.”

Harry wanted to be angry, but he knew that  wouldn’t help anything. And besides, she could kiss whomever she wanted to. 

“Then I puked on his shoes.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. The anger that he had been feeling was completely gone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, grinning up at him, her eyes still shiny. “Then of course I passed out. Not because I was drunk so much as I realized right then that there’s no one on Earth that I’d rather kiss than you. I tried to push it away. I thought I could just ignore the feelings like I did for so long, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I love you.”

With that said, she pushed herself closer again and kissed him. Harry sighed into her mouth and pulled her closer, clutching at her shirt. He didn’t know how long they sat there softly kissing each other, but Harry could have continued to do it forever. Eventually, though, she pulled back.

“Hmm. I love you, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled. “I love you, too, Hermione Granger.”

Then he kissed her again. _Merry Christmas, Harry,_ he thought, happier than he had ever been.

**5** **January 2003**

Harry Potter stepped out of the floo, unable to contain his grin. He was just getting home from his first day back at the DoM  after the holidays and he was really happy to be home.  Mostly, he could admit to himself, because he knew Hermione w ould be waiting for him.

The last t wo weeks or so had been the best of his life.  Honestly, he hadn’t ever expected to have a chance with Hermione, even before she had pulled away from him after the war.  Just the fact that they were together now made him happier than he ever could have imagined.

They hadn’t had sex yet, however. Harry had to admit that he was a bit bothered by it. For one thing, he’d had a pretty active sex life after the war, mostly through his membership at  _ The Dungeon _ , so going two weeks completely without was a shock to his system.  Even after Hermione had come back into his life, he still on occasion went to the club to take the edge off, especially after Dr. Becky had suggested he do so. 

He could have dealt with that, however, if Hermione hadn’t been so skittish about the whole thing. Every time it looked like things were going in that direction, she’d cool it off or stop what they were doing altogether, and  Harry wasn’t sure what the problem was. He’d tried to talk to her about it, but she just brushed him off and immediately changed the subject. It was a bit frustrating, but Harry was so happy otherwise that he wasn’t going to push her for more. It was easy enough to wait until she was ready.

Harry hung up his day robe and walked through the silent house, wondering where his girlfriend was. She’d been quiet that morning, so Harry knew she had something on her mind. 

He checked the library first, obviously, but she wasn’t there, nor was she in the kitchen or the main living room on the second floor. Harry decided that she must be in her room, so he decided to go up and say hello and ask her what she would like for dinner.

“Hermione,” he called out after knocking on her door.

“Come in, Harry.”

Harry opened the door to her room and found her laying on her stomach in sweatpants and one of his hoodies reading a book. Her cheeks were flushed and she didn’t look at him when he walked in, making Harry very curious about what she’d been reading.

“How was your day,” she asked, still not looking at him.

“It was fine. Mostly meetings,” Harry answered. He couldn’t really tell her what he was working on given her lack of security clearance, but she knew that already. He had told her not long after she had shown up on his door that he worked as an Unspeakable. Needless to say, she was suitably impressed. Also a bit jealous. “How about you? Did you do anything fun? How was your meeting with Dr. Becky?”

“It was embarrassing,” Hermione said, finally looking up at him.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? How? That is if you want to talk about it.”

“She told me about _The Dungeon,”_ Hermione said after thinking for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed pink.

Harry laughed. “Really? What is it with our shrink pointing people towards the BDSM lifestyle?”

“I don’t know. Is that how you got into it too?”

“Wait...you knew about that?”

Hermione blushed. “I found your toy box a  month ago along with a few pictures.  And I’ve been talking with Dr. Becky about it ever since.  She didn’t tell me she was the one who got you into it, though. ”

“Ah…”

“I didn’t know you even knew Daphne Greengrass.” Harry blushed a bit. The pictures he kept in his toy box were copies of images that were hanging on the walls at _The Dungeon_.

“I only know her through the club,” Harry admitted honestly, as he walked further into the room and took a seat at Hermione’s desk. “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That I’m into BDSM? Is that the reason why you’ve been reluctant to take us further?”

“Wow, don’t hold back with the hard questions there, Potter,” Hermione said snidely, making Harry smile at her. She took a deep breath. “No. It’s not the reason. I’m pretty sure I’m just as kinky as you are, though I’ve not had a chance to actually test that theory out.”

Hermione paused again. “I’ve been holding back because I’m not ready, Harry.”

“That’s okay,” Harry assured her. “I thought that might be it, and I won’t push you. If you want to talk about why, though, I’m here. You can always talk about anything with me.”

“I know,” Hermione said with a warm smile. She sat up and set her book aside. “I know that, and I’m grateful. I’m just...I’m worried that if we jump too far ahead that it’ll just be sex. And I’ve done ‘just sex’ a lot these last three or so years. I don’t want you to be just another guy I fucked and left behind. I don’t think either one of us could survive that. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Harry stood and took a seat next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her and pulling her against him in a hug. “First off, you’re not going to lose me. You say you love me, and I’m so happy to have the chance to love you back. I don’t care when we take it to the next level. It can be now or a year from now. I don’t think that I’m like the other guys, and you’ve never made me feel that way.”

Hermione took a shaky breath and turned her head up, pressing her mouth against his in a soft kiss. Harry kissed her back, putting a hand against her cheek. When they pulled back Hermione was smiling at him, Harry smiled back and rested his forehead against her.

“I love you, Hermione,” he said softly. Hermione’s smile got wider.

“I love you, too.” She giggled. “I can’t believe this is where we’re at.”

Harry laughed. “Me either.”

They were silent for several minutes, just enjoying being snuggled together. Harry kept running his hands through her hair. Honestly, he couldn’t get enough of touching her. It was an addiction he was afraid that he’d never break and that was quite terrifying. She’d already left him behind once, and while he believed her when she said she loved him, he wasn’t sure that she loved him as much as he loved her.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Becky wants me to go to _The Dungeon._ ”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “ Really? ”

Hermione nodded. “We talked about the dynamics, and honestly I can’t say that I’d ever given BDSM much thought before I found your books and toys back in December. And I’ve never considered myself submissive. I abhor slavery in all forms.”

“It’s not really about that, you know that right? I mean there is Master/slave play, but not all relationships are like that. In fact, I’d say most of them aren’t.”

“I know, Dr. Becky explained.” Hermione indicated the book on her lap. “She gave me a list of books to read.”

“Well, at least she knows you,” Harry quipped.

“Shut up,” Hermione said, elbowing him in the side,  causing him to grunt . She took a deep breath. “After reading a  bit , I won’t deny that it sounds fascinating. I don’t know how far I could take it.”

“ Nobody knows what they like until they try it, I sure didn’t,” Harry answered. 

“When I found your stash, it was all I could think about for days and days,” Hermione admitted.

“Really? Wait, is that why you were so awkward for those few days?”

Hermione nodded, her cheeks flushing. “ I couldn’t get you out of my head. I mean, it was before we were together, and I was still trying to keep my feelings bottled up. It really messed with my head imagining you bending me over a table and spanking me until my ass was beet red.”

“Wow. That’s a nice image,” Harry admitted.

“Hmm. I’ve come to terms with it, though I’m still not sure how much of that is just me wanting to shag your brains out.”

Harry laughed. “I’m willing to explore it all with you if you want. If I have any brains left after you shag them all out of me, that is.”

“ Can it, Harry,” Hermione said, elbowing him again. “It was so embarrassing talking about this with Dr. Becky.”

“I know, I remember. We still talk about it. It’s even odder when you see her at the club.”

“You’ve seen her there?” Hermione asked, shocked

Harry nodded. “Yup. She’s been a member for years.”

“Have you ever… You know?”

“No.”

“Why not? She’s very attractive.”

Harry smirked at her. “Jealous?”

“No!” Hermione answered quickly. Harry just laughed and pulled her back into a hug.

“You don’t have to be. Dr. Becky is happily married.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. She doesn’t wear a ring.”

“She wears a collar instead,” Harry said.

Harry watched as Hermione’s eyes widened. “She’s a sub?”

“Yes. A switch, actually, but she’s submissive to her husband. She hasn’t told me much, obviously, as it’s none of my business, but I know that she’s been Dominant in relationships before.”

“That honestly truly surprises me,” Hermione said. “I knew that she had to have some experience with BDSM, but that she’s that far into it is kind of shocking. I guess I don’t know her as well as I thought.”

“It’s a private thing for most people. Though she’s fairly open about a lot of things, you just have to ask her. She probably wasn’t pushing it so that she didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“ Could be. We’ve been talking about this for a month now. Since I found your stash.”

“Ah.”

“She didn’t tell me about  _ The Dungeon _ until today though.”

“Are you going to go then?”

Hermione shrugged. “D o you think it’s a good idea to go there alone when I’m in a relationship with you?”

“You can go watch,” Harry said, his stomach rolling at the idea of another Dom being with her. “They have observation rooms. You don’t have to participate. And I don’t think you should  participate , right from the start. Go and watch a few scenes and see  what turns you on. Y ou don’t have to put yourself in the middle of it. Just dip your toes. It’s what I did for almost six months before I took a mentor and learned how to be a Dom.”

“You had a mentor?”

Harry nodded. “For a few months until I was confident that I could  be a Dom without hurting anyone. There is a lot of responsibility in BDSM, no matter what level you participate in and that’s on both the Dom and the Sub’s side.  Safe, Sane, and Consensual, and all that.”

They were silent again, both lost in their thoughts.

“Is that what you want?” Hermione asked finally.

“What?”

“A full-time Dom/sub relationship? Like what Dr. Becky has.”

Harry shrugged. “I would like to try if I had a partner who was willing. But, honestly, Mia, I don’t need it. I am kinky, as you said, and if you wanted to explore some of that later on, I’d be happy to do so. But I don’t r equire full control  of our relationship . Would I like it? Yes. I’ve learned that I love to be in control of everything in my life. But relationships aren’t like that and if I need to sacrifice my need to control to be with you, I’m fine with that.”

“You need control?”

“Yeah. Turns out being led by the nose for your entire life by a bearded old man who wants you to commit suicide isn’t all that healthy emotionally.”

Hermione laughed. “I can see that.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I want yet, Harry. But you’re right, I should listen to Dr. Becky and see if I can find out. Would you go with me?”

“To  _ The Dungeon? _ ” Hermione nodded. “Sure. I’ll go with you. It’ll save you a bit of cash too since they let full members bring in guests.”

“I didn’t even think about money,” Hermione said. “Damn. Harry, I’ll pay you back for all you’re doing for me, you know that, right?”

“Don’t worry about all that for now, Mia,  that’s not why I mentioned money .  Let’s just get you back up on your feet first and then worry about the rest.”

“Okay.”

“Now, what do you want for dinner?”

-:::-

They ended up going out for dinner. And while at first they were both still lost in their thoughts a bit, eventually, the conversation flowed through all sorts of different topics. Harry only laughed at her as she tried over and over again to get him to tell her what he was working on in the DoM. Maybe someday he’d petition to be able to tell her the truth, but for now, it was kind of fun to tease her. Hermione Granger _hated_ not knowing something.

When the dinner was over, they walked through a nearby park. The weather had been very mild for a January, so the paths were clear, and while there were piles of snow here and there off to the sides, for the most part, it didn’t even seem like it was the middle of winter. Walking hand in hand with Hermione made Harry happy and from the small smile she wore, Harry could tell that she was enjoying herself as well.

“So,” she asked, “When do you want to take me to _The Dungeon?”_

“When do you want to go?” Harry asked.

Hermione thought about it. “I think we should go next week. What day do you have off?”

“Sunday and an early day on both Wednesday and Friday.”

“Sunday then.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. “I’m nervous about it,” Hermione said, breaking the silence.

“I’d say don’t worry about it, but that wouldn’t be helpful. I’ll be there and really all we’ll do is go and watch a fairly vanilla scene or two. Nothing hardcore for your first time. And we’ll grab a kink list so that you can take a look and see if there is anything you’re especially interested in. Or not interested in, as the case may be.”

“Kink list?”

“I should have known you would like a list,” he joked, bumping their hips together. Hermione glared at him, causing Harry to laugh. “There’s a long list of kinks that people enjoy. Some of it is rather pedestrian, things like anal sex or using handcuffs. Then there’s much more hardcore stuff like breathplay and bloodplay.”

Hermione nodded. “That makes sense. And what, you check these kinks off as you do them?”

“No. It’s more like an agreement of what your limits are and what your interests are. You can point out to your dom or your sub what things you’d like to try and those that are absolute no’s.”

“That makes sense.”

“If you do end up trying it, or we do, we’ll make sure we start slowly,” Harry said as he led them towards the apparition point. “A lot of noobs get all excited and jump right in the deep end and then get scared off because they either couldn’t handle it or ended up hurting their partner. Not too long ago, I saw a Dom lose control. I’d never want to do that to you.”

“I trust you, Harry. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get into it. The thought turns me on, but actually practicing it, who knows?”

Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me much as long as you’re happy.”

Hermione pulled them to a stop and kissed him hard. Harry never broke the kiss while he apparated them to Grimmauld.

A half-hour later, Hermione was straddling him and they were still kissing. Hermione pulled back. “Harry.”

Harry took a deep breath, knowing that Hermione was about to pull away again.

“Take me to bed,” she said, causing Harry’s eyes to widen.

“You sure?”

Hermione grinned and kissed him. “I’m sure.”

-:::-

Hermione giggled as Harry basically threw her on the bed and then climbed on top of her.

“Merlin, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. Hermione could feel herself blush, but just beamed at him and pressed her mouth against his, immediately shoving her tongue into his mouth. Harry had an amazing taste that just drove her wild, some kind of combination of cinnamon and something that was just so _Harry,_ she couldn’t describe it. It had honestly been very difficult to stop herself from having sex with him before now.

Harry broke away and started to kiss her cheek and ear before moving down the slope of her throat,  causing Hermione to moan. Slowly, they divested each other of their clothing. With each article that was removed, Harry would use his mouth and tongue on the newly exposed skin, causing  her to moan and wiggle with desire.  It was maddening.

“Harry, please,” she begged as he paid attention to her left nipple. She could feel him grin against her breast, causing her to glare at him. He didn’t look all that repentant, the bastard. “Stop teasing me, Potter.”

“ No,” Harry said with a grin before changing to her right nipple. He gave it a nip with his teeth, making her groan. Her tits had always been sensitive, but  never enough to tip her over the edge. 

By the time Harry was done with her breasts, she was a fine mess, begging him to for more and more. Harry finally started to kiss his way down her stomach, pausing to give attention to her belly button, which was more erotic than she ever thought it would be. Merlin, the man knew how to use his tongue.

Hermione had never had a lover who had paid so much attention to foreplay. Most of the guys she’d brought home did just enough to get her ready before they plowed in, sometimes not even that if they were both really drunk. Not Harry, though. No, he spent minutes going from her tits down to between her legs, and then he didn’t even bring his mouth to her center. Instead, he kissed down the inside of her left thigh, often using his teeth to leave soft marks on her pale skin, making her moan out at the twinge of pain.

“Harry, please, stop teasing,” Hermione begged again.

“No,” Harry said again, grinning up at her as he nipped his way down her thigh, bypassing where she wanted him most. Hermione knew that when he finally did bring his mouth to her pussy she wouldn’t last long.

Harry kissed all the way down her thigh and calf and then sucked her big toe into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around its perimeter.

“Fuck!” Hermione shouted. She had no clue her toe was so sensitive. “Harry!”

“What?”

“Please. Fuck me. I need you, now,” Hermione sobbed. “Just...please.”

“But I’m having fun,” Harry said innocently. “You taste so good, and I haven’t even got to the best part.”

Hermione groaned as Harry decided that was the moment to taste her ‘best part.”  He worked his way back up the inside of her leg, and then suddenly licked her from top to bottom.  True to her previous thoughts, she came almost instantly. 

“Harry! God! Fuck, that’s so good,” she shouted as her walls tightened, clenching her inner muscles almost painfully. Harry continued to lick her, however, never letting her come down from her high. He focused on running his tongue through her folds, never quite stimulating her clit, but always coming close. When he finally did make contact with her most sensitive area, Hermione came again, this time she could see her juices almost squirt out of her, covering Harry’s mouth and face.

This time Harry let her calm down, but he stayed between her legs, resting his chin on her mons. When she finally caught her breath, Hermione looked down at him and smiled goofily. “That was wonderful. Tortuous, but wonderful.”

“Good then. You taste amazing. I could literally do this all day long and never get tired of it. Wanna see how many orgasms you can have before you pass out?”

Hermione laughed and grabbed at his hair to pull him up her body. She kissed him when he finally arrived at her mouth. “No,” she answered when she pulled away. She could taste herself, and it just made her so much hotter. “No, I need you inside me now, please.”

Harry just grinned down at her and kissed her. He positioned himself more firmly between her legs and guided himself towards her entrance. When he pushed in, they both groaned in delight.

“Merlin, you’re so tight,” Harry grunted. “So tight.” He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head as he started to thrust his hips, starting slow but eventually working his way up to the point where he was pounding her into the mattress. With her hands pinned above her head, Hermione couldn’t do anything but moan as Harry’s cock plundered her tight insides.

“ Fuck! Harry!” Hermione shouted out,  another orgasm ripping through her like a raging fire. She’d been so worked up from his mouth that it hadn’t taken her long despite having two orgasms before he entered her.  She’d never had multiple orgasms before. It was shocking.  Hermione almost thought about being embarrassed about how quickly she had come, but that thought was quickly eradicated by Harry’s continued thrusting. 

“Gods, Mia, so good,” Harry grunted. Hermione tilted her head up and kissed him, shoving her tongue into his mouth.

Hermione moaned as Harry tilted his hips and slammed into her from another angle, causing him to brush up against her most sensitive spot. Fireworks danced behind her eyes and she squealed as she came again around his cock. This time, Harry grunted and found his own climax. Hermione’s own pleasure was drawn out by the feeling of his seed flowing into her. Harry, with a few final erratic thrusts, finally released her wrists and fell down on top of her. Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close.

“Wow,” Harry murmured into her ear. “Just wow.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed as she enjoyed his heavy weight on top of her. Too soon, in her opinion, Hermione felt Harry start to roll over, moving so that she was now on top of him. In the process, she felt his cock slip out of her, causing her to groan that the loss.

They were silent for several minutes, just enjoying the aftermath of what they had just done. Hermione snuggled closer, not being able to keep the grin off of her face. She would be the first to admit that she’d had a lot of sex over the last three years. She would even go so far to call herself a bit of a slut – though, with Dr. Becky’s help, Hermione realized that she had her reasons for being like that. But never, not a single time, had she ever felt so much pleasure. No one had ever come close to it, honestly.

“What are you thinking,” Harry asked as he ran his fingers up and down her sweaty spine.

Hermione’s grin grew as she pulled back a bit so she could look him in the eyes. “I’m thinking I really love you. I’m thinking that I’ve never had sex like that before.” Hermione took a breath and kissed him quickly. “I’m thinking that I really, really like it when you hold me down.”

“Really?” Harry grinned back at her.

“Really. I don’t know if that will go further, but it was really hot. The whole thing was really hot, actually.”

“Yeah.” Harry sighed and became serious for a moment. “I love you so much, you know that? I...I’m just so damn happy right now.”

Hermione snuggled in closer, burying her face into his neck. “I love you too,” she whispered, shocked at how sincerely she meant it.  She’d known that she loved Harry Potter for years. It was a truth as true as a truth could be. But until this very moment, Hermione Granger would have been positive that she couldn’t love Harry any more than she already had.

She was wrong. So very wrong. This was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. 

Harry reacted to her words by flipping them over and kissing her hard. Hermione could feel his cock growing hard once more and couldn’t hold back the shiver of anticipation.

This was going to be a long night. A gloriously long night.


End file.
